


On the Free Side

by QuinoaChaos



Category: Kingdom Hearts (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Coming of Age, Drug Addiction, F/F, F/M, Fame, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Multi, Musicians, Recreational Drug Use, Romance, Slow Burn, multi-ship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:54:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 58,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25612384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuinoaChaos/pseuds/QuinoaChaos
Summary: Axel was a lost young man determined to wander across the world, aimlessly chasing sunsets. With a laugh, he said, "There isn't anything on this earth that can keep me in one place." And then he met Roxas, a guy who is the real deal in more ways than one, and the meaning of sunsets changed forever.How can you tell who you really are in the midst of fame, heartbreak, and the heavy burden of past mistakes? If you make enough room in your heart, even after years and worlds of distance, you’ll still be lucky enough to find your way back and meet in the middle.
Relationships: Axel/Roxas (Kingdom Hearts), Riku/Sora (Kingdom Hearts)
Comments: 30
Kudos: 26





	1. Address

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe the idea for this story came to me more than half a year ago now. I was sick in bed, playing The Sims 3, and a vision of the starry sky on the west coast came rushing in my mind and the pieces slowly began to fall into place. And now we're here. Heads up for some Final Fantasy cameos ;)
> 
> This one goes out to all the times we get to try and try again. May those moments always be set to some proper hustling tunes.

Axel had been in Traverse Town for two years before he realized that he had his first semi-permanent address in over a decade. 0123 Copperfield Lane, 4th District. The townhouse he was renting was a slender taupe addition to the row of archaic buildings that lined the cobblestone streets. Part of its charm had been the neighbourhood's resemblance to colourful books sitting on a dusty library shelf, quiet and reserved but full of promise. But it hadn’t been the quaint architecture that had swayed him into staying. It had been more of a spur of the moment decision, one that was hastened by the fact that he had been driven out from the cheap attic space in the (apparently world renowned) First District inn by an overwhelming inconvenience.

Two years ago, Geppeto’s House had been an idyllic bliss of privacy and anonymity for some weeks, up until the time school resumed in September. It was then when Axel discovered to his unending chagrin that some children’s movie he’d never heard of had been filmed there almost three decades ago. Which wasn’t a problem in itself—Axel was a fan of tacky small town haunts more than the average guy—but it put the humble establishment in the truly awkward position of being Traverse Town’s mainstream tourist attraction. 

The hopeful citizens had propped up Geppeto’s House as a beacon of the town’s rich architectural history and hordes of school children, all shuttled en masse from the big cities during the fall, would come to visit in the name of culture and education. The whole endeavour achieved the combined effect of boring the impressionable youth to tears as well as ripping to shreds any magical impression that could have existed of the movie beforehand.

Three weeks into his stay, the straw that broke the back of Axel’s patience seemed to fall like clouds of dust from the attic rafters, when the fourth emotional breakdown of the week shook the building at its seams. It was inevitable, when it was unveiled yet again that Pinocchio was in fact not a real boy and that movies aren’t always about things that actually happened, that disappointment would be confronted by dozens of young broken hearts in the lobby. 

Axel wasn’t one to stick around for tears of any kind, not even for cheap rent and the voyeuristic thrill of intimate secrets floating between paper thin walls. So he signed some papers, packed his bags, and hightailed it to the fourth district, where the dull underbelly of the town thrived, safe from the optimistic rosy gaze of camera-wielding tourists and school children.

When Axel walked into Avalanche a week after finalizing the lease on his new abode, he remarked about it off hand to Barret in the middle of his third tattoo session, one that would complete the black phoenix piece around his neck.

“If you were any other kind of guy, I’d take this as a sign that you’re here for the long haul,” Barret mumbled over the sinister hum of the tattoo gun.

Axel grinned past the searing pain on his neck, his expression lacking any trace of seriousness. 

“A year is hardly what I would call the long haul.”

That had been exactly two years ago. During the time of his stay, Axel remained a reluctant citizen of Traverse Town, constantly with one foot out the metaphorical door, living as half-hearted as he could while beginning a career in Avalanche. He’d persistently joke that he had a genetic disposition for skipping town whenever he felt like it. Barret, who was wise enough never to play into Axel’s bizarre sense of humour, told him firmly that he’d better give two months notice before running off. To his credit, Axel listened, but he never seemed to miss an opportunity to talk about the x number of days before his lease was up. 

Nobody really knew what Axel’s life had been like before this, but judging by his worryingly high chaos threshold, anything in the realm of urban lawlessness wasn’t completely off the table. But to the surprise of absolutely everyone, he ended up staying, seemingly content with this new provincial life (in his own strange way), which was contrary to everything he’d ever preached. Barret made sure to refrain from saying so when Axel arrived at Avalanche that morning.

“There was a phone call for you earlier,” Barret called out from his studio where he was sanitizing the black leather upholstery of his client chair.

Axel barely glanced up as he poured himself a mug of thick, dark coffee. 

“Hrngh?”

“Someone called. They asked for you directly. Late night?”

Green eyes began to register faint traces of intelligent life as Axel inhaled hot, caffeinated salvation. 

“I was up until four working on a piece for one of my clients. The dude barely cracked a smile at our last consultation until I basically sketched out the Sistine-fucking-Chapel. I _t_ _old_ him that you can’t cram all that detail on your forearm, but hey, why listen to a professional.”

Barret resisted the scalding urge to point out that he was still just a rookie with little more than a year of full-time experience under his belt. When the clients sat down for a session and took one look at Axel’s pretty poreless face and tailored designer clothes, it wasn’t entirely surprising when they turned shakily to Barret for a second opinion. 

Still, Barret liked to think that he took on Axel’s apprenticeship for a very good reason. Beyond his natural talent, there was also the steady queue of young single hopefuls willing to brave painful and cliched dermal permanence in the name of getting an eyeful of tall, red-headed emotional unavailability. This was something Barret kept to himself because he was a man of good sense and possessed an acute aversion to Axel’s astonishing capacity for vanity. The guy didn’t really need anybody else pumping his tires and if that meant Barret doled out professional praise (or praise of any kind) like rations in a post-apocalyptic wasteland, then it was simply for the good of everybody involved.

Speaking of pumping tires …

“You might wanna finish your coffee.” Barret nodded towards the smaller studio across the room, his face an ominous mask of neutrality. “You’ve got a client.”

Axel had the audacity to scowl at the clock, hissing underneath his breath, “Who for the love of illegal chocobo racing would come for a walk-in this early.”

Poised like a coiled viper, he pulled back the curtain to glance into his studio at the 9 a.m. intruder and narrowly avoided spilling coffee all over his silk button-up shirt in the process. Barret watched, unimpressed, as Axel set his mug down and rushed to collect himself before casting a chastised look in the vague direction of the ceiling.

“This _isn’t_ a personal call.”

“Damn right it’s not.”

Making a swift exit away from Barret’s horribly judgemental gaze, Axel pulled the curtain of his studio closed behind him. He turned to face the young man sitting in the client chair like a lackadaisical jungle cat. Not for the first time, he was thankful that his little slice of Avalanche was one outfitted with east facing windows. The morning sun poured in like warm honey, lazy dulcet tones illuminating platinum blond hair, alabaster skin, and winter blue eyes that always looked like they were up to no good.

“You’re here early,” Axel muttered, giving Vaan a half-hearted smile.

A mysterious flash of pearly white teeth. 

“Too early, I think.”

The concept of “early” was entirely relative when it came to Vaan. For someone who drifted in and out of town for entirely unknown periods of time and for equally unknown (possibly unsavoury) reasons, he had a knack for showing up whenever Axel was least expecting him. Which, considering Axel's lack of patience for surprises, should have taken a very real toll on his nerves. But it didn’t. Perhaps it was because of the way Vaan’s hair fell over his temples, boyish and casual, and the manner in which he smiled without a care, never forthcoming as to his recent whereabouts, other than a simple, “I’ve been in the skies a long time.”

When Axel met him a year ago, Vaan had briefly mentioned being from Rabanastre. Knowing enough about the political chaos that was boiling over in that part of the world, but not enough about which side Vaan was on, Axel refrained from asking any questions that would have made him look like a total ass. He avoided saying anything at all that would get him roped into a tirade about corruption and the foreign intricacies of civil liberty. After taking one look at Vaan, his priorities hadn’t exactly swerved into the noble, righteous path. Axel had chosen to focus on the lean expanse of muscular skin underneath his tattoo gun, working intently on his very first chest piece as a full-time artist. And he secretly hoped that the glint in those pale blue eyes meant what he thought it did.

With lukewarm optimism, Axel had given Vaan his number before he left but wasn’t really surprised when no call or text came his way. Much to his ever growing surprise, the man of mystery returned to Avalanche a month later. Axel tried his best not to sound too much like a jilted lover when he asked, as casual as denim from head to toe, if his number had been lost to the skies.

“I don’t have a phone,” Vaan had laughed as if the thought of owning one was completely crazy.

That really should have been the neon sign pointing to some cloak-and-dagger kind of lifestyle. But Axel never got a chance to voice his suspicions before Vaan pulled him into a hot, passionate kiss. It would have lasted much, much longer than it did, if not for the flimsy curtain separating them from the rest of the tattoo shop. In that moment, Axel decided he didn’t really care if Vaan was a drug-smuggling, weapons-dealing intergalactic felon. As long as he kept doing that delightful thing with his mouth, Axel wasn't about to start complaining.

They had carried on that way for a year. No questions, no answers. In the first few months, it occurred to Axel that it should have bothered him more than it did. A one-night stand could have made sense, but was it really possible to do this long term with someone who was gone for days and weeks on end, knowing next to nothing about each other? The question disturbed him until he was inevitably forced to reflect on his own situation. 

The truth was that Axel was secretly thankful for the limbo of meaningless hookups they established as a sporadic norm for the past year. There was no obligation for the exchange of life stories; there simply existed an unspoken agreement not to pry. So Vaan never had to reveal where he went or when he’d be back and Axel had nothing to explain about himself or his past, least of all the haunting familiarity of golden hair and blue eyes.

In the morning light of the present, Axel surveyed Vaan and felt a surprising lack of passion. He noted dimly that he was as beautiful and out of reach as ever. Taking a seat on the rolling stool, he leaned in close and leveled Vaan with a redundant salesman’s pitch.

“What’ll it be today? Touch-up?”

Vaan pulled off his shirt and Axel’s mouth went dry.

“Roger that. Oh, and … I’ll need your keys after.”

Axel pulled on a pair of latex gloves and fired up his equipment. It always went like this. 

When their session was finished, Vaan left with a smile of thanks and paid in cash, pocketing a spare set of Axel’s house keys before slipping quietly out the front door. The day couldn’t have gone by any slower and it was almost six o’clock by the time Axel finished with his last client. In his rush to get home, he had completely forgotten about the phone call that morning.

Avalanche was a literal hop, skip, and a jump down the street from where he lived. He arrived home in a matter of minutes and found that all the lights were off. Quietly making his way up the flight of stairs, Axel found Vaan in the bedroom, curled up peacefully atop the downy bed covers. Whenever he was nestled in the embrace of sleep, Vaan had a habit of placing his hand above the curve of his brow. Laying as if in the middle of a dance, he looked much younger than he actually was, less distant and more vulnerable. In the stillness of the evening, Axel was struck by how he’d never really noticed the tenderness with which he always chose to sleep on the right side of the bed—because Axel liked being closer to the window on the left side. That much at least, they knew of each other. 

Axel pushed the thought away, repulsed by his brief foray into the twilight zone of sentiment.

Climbing onto the bed, he leaned over and placed a lingering kiss on the long expanse of Vaan’s neck, the skin beneath his lips warm and sweet. He was greeted with a rousing stretch of limbs, a telling glance over the shoulder, pale blue eyes full of anticipation.

“You’re here early,” Vaan joked. The softness of his voice almost lost in the fading light of day, twilight sweeping faintly across the room in a half-hearted tide.

Axel shook his head, taking both of Vaan’s wrists to pin them above his head.

“Too early, I think,” he murmured, rolling on top with a deft swing of his hips.

Unbeknownst to the next-door neighbours, their peaceful family-friendly dinner remained uninterrupted, thanks only to the stalwart insulation muffling the chaos of violent headboard banging and unrestrained animal moaning in what was nothing short of a soundproofing miracle.

Vaan fell asleep again almost immediately after. Axel got the impression that whatever he did in the mysterious wilds of the world, he didn’t get much opportunity for rest. Vaan always fell asleep as soon as they were done. In the tiring aftermath of their unruly lust, Axel was wide awake, with no real desire to lay there counting the shadows of ceiling spackle.

Without bothering to put on clothes, he made his way downstairs to grab a glass of water. Aimlessly, he wandered the dark rooms as if he was an intruder in the alien land of his own space. A weak perfunctory voice inside his head told him that this wasn’t permanent. Like many times throughout his life, he’d pick up and drive off into the sunset for a change of scenery. Soon. This wasn’t going to be any different. Two years was a short time in the grand scheme of things. That's what he liked to tell himself, especially considering how little of his personality he'd invested into this place. The minimal outfittings of his abode held all the character and pizzaz of a furnishing catalogue. The only signs of warmth and human presence were the developed photos on the walls of his travels across the world and the silver record player in the living room. His vinyls sat in a single crate at the foot of the couch. It was a slim collection but Axel liked to think he had gold in there. Of the few items that he’d take with him once he moved, he’d already decided it would only be his clothes, photos, car, and music. Everything else was replaceable.

Wandering up to the crate of records in the living room, he fingered through them until he settled on one sleeve that was opaquely red even in the darkness. Axel paused, quieting his own breath beneath a whisper, listening for sounds of wakefulness from upstairs. When the house responded with compliant silence, Axel slipped the record from the crate.

The cover art was simple: a gaussian myopic shot of film, the driver’s side interior of an E30 M3. The sharp edges of black leather upholstery melted into the flood of red twilight pouring in from the windows like warm ocean water. A hand was draped over the wheel, a gentle sonnet of stillness, each knuckle, line, and curve of tan fingers forming a distant rhythm. The ring finger was wrapped in the embrace of a heavy gold band that bore square rubies on either side of a large clear cut diamond. The title read in bold scarlet letters across the cover:

CARDINAL

With less than a hundred thousand authentic pressings in circulation, Axel had spent a small fortune getting his hands on a copy. It was his most prized possession. He’d lost count of how many times he’d listened to all thirteen tracks in solitude. It was second nature by now, every note and verse embedded into his mind like his tattoos were underneath his skin.

Setting the volume knob of the speakers down to a faint whisper, Axel placed the first disc on the turntable, watching as the needle lifted like a bird to land gently on the outer rim of red vinyl ripples. He lay down on the couch, shifting his whole body close to the speakers as sound fluttered across the room in secrecy: a sports car revving, thrown into drive, soft piano chords melting into the background as an indistinct laugh coaxed the listener to lean in closer. The hum of the engine began to fade as the melody rose.

Glancing down at the cover in his lap, Axel felt a hollow ache in his chest. He flipped it over to the back and ran his fingers across the text printed in white. The letters floated like doves over a panoramic sunset, an image that felt like the embrace of a childhood home he never knew.

CARDINAL

_Roxas Trepe_

In the relentless solitude of night, Axel found it impossible to negotiate with the unforgiving truths that drifted instantly to the surface, unanchored by the light of day.

Vaan’s hair had the pallor of thin white platinum sheets, unlike the bright goldenrod of autumn on the west coast. Vaan’s eyes were the pale blue of long winters. They weren’t like the deep and endless midnight sky above the ocean. Vaan had cool, unbroken skin like precious marble. When Axel closed his eyes, he saw nothing but an uncharted expanse of sun-kissed freckles, sunset colour on high cheekbones, a memory untouched by the corrosive ravages of time.

It had been five years since he’d last spoken to Roxas—five years since Axel left his heart behind on the west coast. Now, hearing Roxas’s voice fluttering through the speakers like so many intimate, familiar conversations, Axel almost felt like he was back on the islands again. The melody welcomed him with open arms, ushering him tenderly to look back on a time when he wasn’t so closed off, when he knew with utmost certainty that he needed more than just fractured and detached nights, lost in a dark sea of heartless passion.

* * *

“You should check your mailbox.”

Axel glanced up from the kitchen table where he was having baked tofu grits with avocado and tomatoes. He’d offered some to Vaan out of politeness, who then declined, perhaps for the same reason. He almost never stayed for breakfast.

“Anything interesting in there?” Axel got up, sauntering to where Vaan had half a foot out the front door.

“I can’t tell, but there might be a winning lottery ticket underneath the mountain of Moogle Mart coupons,” Vaan said wryly, shrugging on his brown leather jacket.

Axel grimaced. He never got anything important in the mail so checking it had fallen very low on his list of priorities.

Vaan gave him a smile that was vaguely reassuring.

“I’ll catch you later.”

“Right. Later.”

“Later” might have meant later on that night or later on in the year—both had equal merit given Vaan’s track record. But there was no need for clarification.

Axel watched as the door closed gently behind him, the young man presumably fading off into some undisclosed back alley to carry out illegal activity in the name of espionage, money, or both. Axel resolved to check the mailbox later, which he promptly forgot as soon as he sat on the couch and dozed off.

When the ringing of his phone jolted him awake, he quite literally flew into a panic after a groggy glance at the time. In the mad sprint to put on some clothes, Axel’s imagination entertained visions of Barret busting out very real artillery power as biblical comeuppance for his tardiness. He’d always known that the boss’s days as a rebel in Midgar would never work out favourably for him. Not feeling spry enough for target practice, Axel hurled himself at a full sprint out the front door, leaving his mailbox bursting at the seams with dejected 50% off deals for bath towels and elixirs.

Stumbling into Avalanche, heart on the brink of collapse and hair looking more like a frazzled hedgehog than usual, Axel was ready to vomit some wild excuse (or vomit for real, anything was possible), but was met with a surprisingly calm and amused smirk.

“I—o- _kay_ , hold on— _wheeze_ —I can … ex- _plain_.”

“Explain what, Axel?” Barret looked up from the paperwork he was rifling through at the front counter. “That you now see the benefits of quitting cigarettes?”

“ _Hell_ no.”

“Then in that case, I’m sure you’ve got a damn good excuse for being here on your day off.”

In the distance, Axel could have sworn he heard a faint shattering of glass and the howling of wolves. Amidst the negotiation with his lungs and heart to find _some_ oxygen, he had just enough time to gather his thoughts, mustering up an attempt to play it cool.

“Then _why_ did you call me? Nobody calls anybody anymore—not unless death or accidental pregnancy are involved.”

Barret raised a brow, completely unmoved by Axel’s stringent philosophy on phone call etiquette. But he soldiered on anyway, thinking in some remote corner of his psyche that he might regret this later.

“You didn’t check your voicemail, did you? Some fuckin’ guy called asking for you again, same asshole as yesterday. I told him I’d let you know, but he was damn persistent. Said he needed your contact info, but of course I didn’t give it to him.”

Axel frowned. 

“Do people often call and ask for my number?”

Barret almost broke out in hives. 

“ _Fuck_ no. This guy said he knows you from Radiant Garden.”

It couldn’t have been possible for Axel to grow paler but he became a worthy rival of paper just then.

“Shit. I can name ten people from there who could’ve tracked me down and trust me, I do _not_ want any of them to know I’m alive.”

Barret refused to take him seriously, hastening to scribble a phone number on a piece of paper just as a client walked in. He thrust the note to Axel, throwing him a look that said there was no room for argument.

“Then give them a call from the ‘coroner’ with a time of death. Or tell them to quit phoning here. Y’feel me?”

Axel wandered back to his house in a dejected stupor. After taking a seat at the kitchen table, still trying to negotiate a truce with his climbing blood pressure, he squinted down at the series of numbers, feeling all kinds of anxious dread. He racked his brain, rationalizing as to which of the many estranged acquaintances of the past would be trying to reach out to him now, and came up with nothing. Well, at least he _wanted_ it to be nothing.

If he was being painfully honest with himself, there was one name that flashed in his mind, conjured up by some vain hope that he really didn’t want to feel. Then he remembered that Barret said “Radiant Garden” and not “Destiny Islands,” and reality settled in like an unforgiving punch to the gut.

Eventually, he had to tell himself to snap out of it and bite the bullet. There was hardly a point in agonizing over the possibilities. Whoever had the tenacity to call Avalanche twice, and in the process risk getting torn a new one courtesy of Barret, obviously merited the dignity of a response. So Axel pulled out his phone, dialed the number, and waited as the connection broke the silence.

_Ring._

_Ring._

_Ri_ —

“Hello?”

Axel released a tightly held breath.

“Riku?” 

Genuine surprise and confusion.

“Axel!” 

The familiar voice sounded relieved and perhaps delighted (but Axel didn’t want to be too optimistic).

“Hey. It’s been a while.” He couldn’t remember the last time they’d spoken on the phone—half a year ago at least. “Sorry I missed your message. I hope my boss didn’t tear you apart for trying to reach me at the shop.”

“Don’t worry about it. He actually seemed pretty used to people asking for you—”

 _I_ **_knew_ ** _it_.

“—so I had to tell him that I actually knew you from way back, when we worked in Radiant Garden together. But now I realize that doesn’t exactly narrow things down. I hope you understand though—my PR team wouldn’t be too thrilled if I left my name and contact information with random strangers.”

Axel couldn’t even begin to tell Riku how much Barret didn’t give a shit about movie stars (even one who had an Olympus Award for Best Actor in a Supporting Role under his belt).

“I tried to reach you at your other number but my calls went to some guy who could have taught a masterclass in mouth breathing. When did you end up getting a new phone?”

_Ah, right._

Axel did in fact get a new phone some months ago, on account of the fact that his old one had been destroyed beyond repair, in the incident he preferred to call “The Cons of Illegal Chocobo Racing.”

“I trashed my old one a few months ago. It’s a long story.” Axel could practically hear Riku’s eyebrows climbing up underneath his dreamy bangs (the words of tabloid magazines, not his). “Now that the stars have aligned and we’re back in each other’s contact lists again, I gotta ask,” Axel leaned back in his seat with a cat-like grin, “to what do I owe the pleasure of a personal call from Riku Saito, 'the great artistic inspiration of our times'?”

The groan that came as a response was almost endearing. 

“I swear to god, Axel. If I didn’t know you, I’d say you’ve been tuning way into mind numbing entertainment TV.”

“How do you know I’m not?”

“For one, I can never be too sure if you have access to cable. And two, you _hate_ entertainment TV.”

“I guess some things never change.”

“Thank god for that,” Riku laughed, the sound beaming with a sincere warmth that made Axel feel like he was eighteen again, in a good way. “Back to the reason I’m calling … now that you have a job in Traverse Town, I’m guessing you’re there for a while?”

“My boss says I better give him two months notice before I drive off into the sunset. So yeah, I’d say I’m here a while.”

“I’m in town later on in the evening. You up for dinner?”

Axel smiled, warmth reaching to tilt up the corners of his eyes.

“If it’s a date and you’re paying, I’m there. I expect flowers.”

* * *

The Green Room Lounge in the 2nd district held an expectant calm that night, the smoky atmosphere filled with the dull hush of sparse conversation. When Axel mentioned the reservation under the name Saito, the host discreetly ushered him to the second floor, where a table for two was arranged on the terrace balcony. Axel took a seat, glancing down below at the view of the canals. He watched as young couples and groups of friends wandered the cobblestone streets, their audible footsteps carrying them to candlelit ventures.

“Compliments of the Green Room, sir.”

He looked up as the host rolled an ornate serving cart to the table, bearing a gleaming brass wine chiller. In it sat a slender bottle of _Leprince de Beaumont_ , embossed gold foil sparkling underneath the string of lights on the terrace. Beads of chilled moisture shone like pearls as they clung to the emerald glass surface. 

The host placed two delicate champagne flutes on the table.

“May I offer a taste to see if our _Impérial_ is to your liking?”

Axel shook his head with a blank smile.

“I’ll wait until Mr. Saito arrives.”

“Yes, sir. Of course.” 

After giving a practiced nod, the host swiftly made his way back downstairs.

Looking at the uncorked bottle, Axel wondered if it would be in bad form to send back champagne meant for another man. After a contemplative moment, he decided that yes, it would be, and considering that the Green Room had the best vegan mushroom pudding on this side of the world, it definitely wasn’t worth offending the staff.

As the cool night air of early fall swept over the town, Axel wondered how long it had been since he’d last seen Riku. It was probably two years ago, although up until the loss of Axel’s old phone, they’d kept in touch as much as the schedule of a movie star would allow. It was strange to think that the first time they’d met was more than ten years ago, back when Axel’s life was constantly laid bare underneath the scrutiny of camera lenses and studio lights, and Riku had been a complete nobody.

During their younger days, there had been something about the stoic sadness of that nameless boy with the pale hair and winter green eyes that called out to Axel. Somehow, Riku had reminded him of his own fragmented childhood. In the laconic bustle of Radiant Garden—the leviathan metropolis of the east coast—life was conducted like a series of indifferent business transactions, with no room at all for sentimentality or personal matters. It was there where the two of them had intersected at the height of Axel’s past career, when he had been eighteen and Riku had been seventeen. Life would have turned out very different for both of them had it not been for that offhand twist of fate. Now, more than ten years later, everyone in the world knew the name Riku Saito, and Axel, having brokered a peaceful anonymity with life in this small, provincial town, was as much of a nobody as it got. Dreams had a strange way of coming true.

Quiet movement in the shadows of the lounge caught his eye. Axel turned in his seat, watching as a bookcase swung from the wall. Two hulk-like goons in black suits appeared, flanking the secret entrance to the mini-bar. After a cursory sweep of the area (highly underwhelming, considering that Axel was the only person seated on the second floor), they ushered in a disgruntled looking Riku, who was the very picture of casual in baggy jeans and a white t-shirt.

Axel stood from his seat, casting a fond smile across the room as they saw each other for the first time in two years. Joy swept Riku’s features and he grinned back, crossing the distance between them in a few strides.

“I hope I’m not too late.”

“Nah, I’m just here early.”

He enveloped Axel in an easy embrace, one arm over the shoulder, lingering for a second before pulling back. Riku surveyed him with a quick glance and it was hard to miss the flash of relief in those pale eyes. In a moment that was mutually mystifying but relieving, the years between them fell away almost immediately and it was like they’d only seen each other yesterday.

They took their seats, a hundred unsaid things hovering delicately close to the surface.

“I like the new tattoos. They suit you.”

“I really can’t say the same for those jeans,” Axel smirked. “Do you have a new role as a craft brewer with a side hustle in THC granola distillates?”

Riku shrugged, miraculously unperturbed. 

“No offense, but I’m not gonna take fashion advice from the guy wearing a neck scarf to match his button-up. Besides, I’ve been running errands all day. So,” he gestured down to plain white cotton, “comfort and practicality was the move.”

Axel noticed the subtle glint of white gold on a finger.

“Y’know, I heard that one of the perks of winning an Olympus Award is that they give you a moogle that you can summon anytime to do your bidding. An actual moogle or a person in a moogle costume, one of the two. You know how these things get mixed up along the grapevine. But I digress. My point is, why brave the unbearable awkwardness of finding a good parking spot and the unflattering sterile lights of the grocery store when you probably have at least five people on the payroll who’d be more than happy to do your shopping for you?”

“You might be thinking of house elves, and _no_ those ‘rumours’ are patently false and probably offensive to moogles everywhere and at least thirty people. And obviously I didn’t come all the way out here just to buy celery and pickled beets from the local farmer’s market.”

Axel threw him a slanted grin, the lines of his face forming shrewd angles. 

“Of course not. You’re clearly here for my dazzling company.”

It was a testament to Riku’s marvelously sculpted PR training when he refused to take the bait and simply offered a genial smile of the eyes.

“It’s great to see you again, Axel. Really.”

It was then when the host arrived, extending a nod of courtesy to Riku.

“Mr. Saito, welcome. On behalf of the Green Room, I would like to say that it is an honour to have you join us tonight. May I offer you gentlemen a glass of our _Leprince Impérial_ to start things off?”

Riku glanced at Axel and it was almost amusing to see the half-second of hesitation flit across his face.

”Yes please, thank you.” A perfunctory gesture of politeness. “Axel, would you be interested?” A courtesy, treading lightly.

Axel grinned, more than happy to diffuse the tension when he said, “I’ll have sparkling water.”

After the serving staff poured their respective drinks and it was just the two of them once more, Axel decided to dole out a kernel of mercy and liberate Riku from the terrifying prospect of having to ask The Dreaded Question.

“Sobriety’s going well. Two and a half years and counting.” Axel averted his gaze to take a long sip of crisp bubbly water, narrowly avoiding the embarrassment of red cheeks flaring up on the other side of the table. He pretended not to notice. “Y’know, being twenty-nine and free of a beer gut is a significant perk of the situation. The fact that I have a reasonable sleep schedule and haven’t shopped for new clothes in years are also among my newly acquired blessings.”

“I can tell from the paisley overalls,” Riku laughed, the line of his shoulders settling gently. He managed to ease up, and just like that, they had a foot in the door of the awkward but unavoidable topics. “To be honest, it’s been so long that I … I kind of had no idea what to expect, you know? I guess I mean … I was aware it would come up at some point. But it sounds like things are going really well. Demyx mentioned that you were doing work for Avalanche. I’ve seen your photography, but I didn’t know you’ve been tattooing.”

“I’m a man of many talents and many more surprises. It seemed like a fun gig after rehab and it was right here in town, so I thought why not? Check this out.” Axel pulled up his sleeve to reveal a rudimentary ouroboros circling his left wrist. “Did that one myself.”

Riku peered closer, surveying the finely inked details of the reptilian scales with a grimace. 

“That can’t have been easy.”

“It hurt like a motherfucker. I thought about quitting at least fifty times during the process. But I finished it in one sitting without bitching and moaning, so that’s when Barret figured I could handle the job. Since then, I’ve been working full time and the rest is history.” Rolling his sleeve back up, Axel gave a casual wink. “I can even ink you for free, if you’re interested.”

Riku snorted. 

“If I came back to Destiny Islands with a tramp stamp, my manager would only string me up by my ankles in front of the the Shinra Towers.”

“Shame. Sounds like being an A-lister isn’t as fun and wild as yacht life makes it out to be.”

“It has it perks, as I’m sure you know.” Riku raised his champagne flute to his lips. “I hope you’re hungry.”

After the first few courses (a sumptuous blend of beetroot onion soup that had a lively zest, followed swiftly by a fresh beet green salad that came with a hearty black bean wildberry patty that was surprisingly playful with its spices), Axel couldn’t help but make an observation on the off-menu dining experience.

“I gotta say, I’m feeling pretty damn special tonight. And I think I’ve figured out why,” Axel said gleefully as they were served the main course of red lentil shepherd’s pie, baked to golden perfection, it was almost criminal to break the crust. “So when you called to make the reservation and requested the chef’s choice for two—and really, feel free to tell me if I’m getting ahead of myself here—did you also happen to ask for a full on, farm-to-table vegan extravaganza?”

Riku actually turned a damning shade of red. 

“Not in so many words. But yes.”

Axel’s grin was positively maniacal. 

“This is _so_ definitely a date.”

“It most definitely _is not_ ,” Riku grumbled, turning his undivided attention to the endeavour of stabbing viciously into his shepherd’s pie.

“I would argue that you’ve gone to great lengths to get me here tonight, not to mention how you’ve kindly taken into account that I’ve sworn off meat since that incident with the pesto chicken—”

“How could I possibly forget.”

“—and the cherry on top is this truly magnificent ukulele serenade.” 

On that note, Axel gestured to the hapless soul on the street below who was indeed strumming sentimental four-string nothings for all to hear in the nearby square.

“That,” Riku winced, “is a very unfortunate coincidence.”

“How heartless. He’s actually playing rather well.”

“Okay, listen.” Riku set down his cutlery, leaving the shepherd’s pie in front of him an uneaten and mangled wreckage. “I know you’re joking, and yet for some insane reason I also know what you’re getting at.”

Axel shoved a spoonful of pie into his mouth. “And that is?” he mumbled through dreamy flakes of pastry dough. There was an explosion of rich dijon gravy and rustic flavours of mirepoix on his taste buds. His face assumed the facade of pure bliss. 

Riku remained unphased.

“We haven’t seen each other for years, so all of this,” he made a sweeping gesture meant to encompass the atmosphere between them, “I get that it’s kind of a lot. But … I’m trying to make up for lost time. Maybe I’m trying too hard. I haven’t been great at keeping in touch and I definitely don’t want to use the excuse that I’ve been busy, because how lame would it be if I said I was too busy for one of my best friends?”

Axel felt the beginnings of clumsy discomfort creeping up on him.

“It wouldn’t be an excuse. It’s true. You’ve got shit to do. Important things.”

“And you don’t?” Riku’s gaze softened and for whatever reason Axel felt the strong need to deny it. But he tempered his words.

“Isn’t this one of those things where it takes two people to make it work?” he countered wryly, a question with a question, dissatisfied with Riku’s approach to martyr himself on this particular hill.

“Sure. But I’m not here to demand a reason for all the unanswered messages, just as I’m certain that you’re not here for that either. I just … I wanted to sit down and have dinner with you, like the old days.” Riku smiled and it was like Radiant Garden all over again, back when the world was new and they both felt invincible. “Remember the day we met? I was just some wide-eyed seventeen-year-old with a head full of dreams and not a single clue about how this world actually worked. But you never treated me like I was just some dime-a-dozen big screen hopeful. When we met, you took me out to dinner when I didn’t know a single soul in that city and I barely had enough money for gas. And you asked me where I wanted to go and you listened.”

Axel could remember like it was yesterday, but it wasn’t something he thought about often. It occurred to him that perhaps when Riku looked at the grand successes of his life, he might have looked back on that fateful meeting through a lens of humbling gratitude.

“Just like the old days, huh? I guess if we were back in the old days, I’d probably ask you something like, ‘Well, kid. What is it that you’re trying to do in this crazy town and how far are you willing to go?’”

“I guess, hypothetically, if I was seventeen again,” Riku carried on with a generous smile, “I’d probably say ‘I want to win an Olympus Award.’”

Axel whistled, leaning in with an elbow propped up on the table, green eyes dazzling and wide. “And I’d say, ‘Movies, huh? I’d wish you the best of luck but I’m gonna spare you the nice meaningless words and tell you the truth: out here, it doesn’t matter one fucking bit if you’re lucky, talented, beautiful, or unfortunate enough to be all three. What matters is who you know, what you’re willing to do, and how true you are to yourself. And would you look at that—now you know _me_.’”

“‘In that case,’” Riku held up his glass, “‘you’ll be counting me among the stars very soon.’”

They grinned at each other like a couple of idiots, caught up in that moment as if the past decade had yet to unfold. Everything felt okay again. The years behind them fell away like so many small and distant fragments, lost to the night breeze. Suddenly they were back to being boys who knew without a doubt that they would be kings of the world.

“Cut to eleven years later,” Axel continued, “we’re sitting here catching up on all the things we’ve missed. The food is spectacular and the company even more so. And right now, more than anything, what I want to tell you is this: ‘Well, kid. You went and did it. You actually fucking did it. I always knew you would.’”

Riku’s brows furrowed, unassailable emotion shining through. 

“And I think, to that I’d say … ‘I’m just lucky I happened to know you.’”

Axel laughed, the sound rumbling deep and full, as he felt hot moisture prickling the back of his eyelids. 

“You’re damn good. They gave you that award for a reason. You almost got me going.”

“That’s because I’m not acting, you idiot.”

“Ah, finally. We arrive at the terms of endearment. Took you long enough.”

“Yeah, among other things.” Riku shook his head gently, the motion softened by a lingering smile. “I know you’re probably gonna say that things are fine and that I don’t have to lay out the apologies. But I don’t think I’ll sleep tonight if I don’t say my piece.”

Axel nodded obligingly. 

“Knock yourself out.”

“I should have been there, Axel. I should have been there when you got out of rehab. I should have called you when you got this job. I had to hear from Demyx that you were doing some freelance art here, but even he wasn’t sure what exactly was going on. I sure as hell should have known. And now that I’m here … I feel like a real sorry excuse for a friend, because how could I have missed all of that? I look at you now and honestly—you want to know what thought crossed my mind as soon I saw you tonight? I thought you looked happier than I’ve ever seen you.”

Axel took this all in with dazed silence. It occurred to him that Riku’s idea of how he’d spent the past two years might have been disconcertingly at odds with reality. And Axel had no one to blame but himself, having offered zero insight into his journey towards sobriety and this new career path. It disturbed him to think that Riku might have thought that his time away was composed of some vague collage of harrowing encounters with withdrawal and self-loathing. The truth of the matter was that Axel had filled much of his time with the monotony of routine, a blurry consecutive of unglamorous days and months working away at this newfound definition of stability. It wasn’t at all like the first time he’d gone to rehab. But for whatever reason, he refrained from saying any of these things, even at the risk of leaving Riku with his off base assumptions.

Riku continued talking.

“Sure, I won the award last year. I’ve been filming. All of this media promotional bullshit and … other things. Look, a lot has happened, but that doesn’t mean—”

“I never blamed you,” Axel sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “Let’s just get that straight. Not a single time did I ever think, ‘Ah, but if Riku’s sorry ass could see me now.’ I want you to get it out of your head that I’ve just been wallowing in some self-destructive spiral these past few years, waiting on the world to take notice of my misery. The upside truth is that things have been pretty normal—I might even go so far as to say that things have been exactly how I want them to be. And the _ugly_ truth of it all is that I was a _fucking mess_ the last time you saw me. And it’s fine to give me my space to sort shit out. Because that gave me time to work through a lot of stuff—and I still am, every single day—and now we’re here.

“Thanks to all that time, I can look you in the eye now and tell you for real that I’m doing okay. And I know that you believe me this time.”

Riku nodded.

“I do. And I’m really glad for that. I can’t even begin to tell you how happy I am for you.” He rubbed the back of his neck, sheepishness colouring his cheeks. “Listen … thanks for coming to meet me tonight. This has been … this has been good.”

The absurdity of having a movie star thank _him_ for his presence at dinner wasn’t entirely lost on Axel. He filed away the thought for later reminiscing.

“A free meal was on the line. You expected me to say no?” Axel smiled easily.

“When I called Avalanche this morning, I was honestly thinking I would never be able to reach you,” Riku laughed. “I was thinking, ‘Axel’s gone off the grid again and this guy on the phone is just giving me the runaround.’ So when you actually called me back, well, can you blame me for pulling out all the stops?”

“I can’t say that I do. C’mon, look at me. I’m a hot commodity in high demand.” Axel let out a deep booming laugh when Riku grimaced. “What am I supposed to think when you’ve flown out all this way to grab dinner with me?”

“Well, the reason why I’m here is to see you, of course. But there’s also another thing.”

“Riku, I’m heartbroken.”

“Let me finish. The other reason I’m here,” Riku’s eyes softened with incredible, tender warmth, “is for a book. A first edition copy of _Pinocchio_. You know Sora used to read it all the time when we were kids? I called around and there’s someone here who’s willing to sell me their signed copy. I think Sora will really love it.”

Axel couldn’t help but smile. 

“Sounds like things are going well.”

Riku’s whole face lit up, his cheeks glowing pink. The moment seemed to tilt in time, everything slanting through a diamond tunnel of champagne and starry lights, on the brink of some momentous change.

“Things are great. I’d even say that things are … perfect.” Riku placed his hands on the table, the glimmer of a white gold band tenderly catching the light. 

“Axel, I really wanted to tell you this in person. Sora and I are getting married.”

* * *

Axel came home later that night feeling as if he’d just stepped out of a disorientingly sunny and humid dream, coming to wakefulness with nothing but heat stroke and acute dehydration. He lay on the couch, the clammy moisture pooling on the small of his back simultaneously too cold and too hot. 

By some miracle, he’d carried on throughout the rest of dinner, as calmly as any other well-adjusted adult. This was in spite of the unhinged temptation heaving within, desperate to provoke him into raving like an irredeemable lunatic. Perhaps he really did have a god-given poker face (or Riku had been wholly consumed by the wonderful ignorance of pre-marital bliss) but he was starting to wonder if he’d actually played it cool or if it was just the universe turning a blind eye to the chaos running rampant in his soul. Because Axel felt for all the world that it had been blatantly obvious how his heart had been ripped out of his chest at that moment—that horrible, benign moment when Riku happily announced, “Sora and I are getting married”—to be drawn and quartered on the dinner table like some science experiment stripped of dignity. The gruesome turning of the tides exposed his vulnerabilities; years worth of fears and unspoken longing were suddenly laid bare in disgraced nakedness underneath the indifferent optimism of the night sky. How the fuck that had gotten past anyone was beyond him.

He’d said the right things and asked the right questions, of course:

Congratulations! It’s about time you asked him. When’s the wedding? Oh, two months from now. How many guests? Ah, close friends and family only. One hundred fifty people is _great_. At the Château de Chambord botanical gardens? That’s _perfect_ , how spectacular. Of _course_ I’ll come to your wedding. Two months from now? I’ll book time off, _no problem_.

The interaction felt like squeezing thick pulpy words out of a cheese cloth, the fragile barrier of propriety and sanity allowing only the strict osmosis of correct responses. It could barely keep at bay the fibrous refuse of one very uncomfortable, selfish question he already knew the answer to.

Roxas was Sora’s younger brother. Of course he’d be there.

Despite the maelstrom of conflicting emotions that could have rendered him comatose until the next week, Axel felt compelled in that moment to get up and check the mail. As he wandered mechanically through his dimly lit home, he thought back on something Riku had said during dinner that made him want to laugh and laugh, all the way to a padded cell with no windows.

“Sora and I didn’t see the need to wait. Almost immediately after I proposed, we started planning and sending out the invitations. I tried to look you up here in Traverse Town to see if you might have an address. We ended up mailing you an invitation on the off chance that you were still living here, but I couldn’t be sure. When I didn’t hear back from you after a couple of weeks, that’s when I asked Demyx if he knew where I could reach you and that’s when he told me to try calling Avalanche. And, well, now we’re here.”

Axel gathered the pile of papers wedged into his mailbox and made his way back inside. He began sifting through the stack, throwing out flyers for garage sales, sheets and sheets of Moogle Mart coupons, tonedeaf solicitations to join a local religious cult, and plenty of neighbourhood newsletters. In the middle of the spiritless cleanup, an envelope slipped from the pile, landing with a feather light tap on the floor.

Picking it up, Axel examined the cardstock with knowing dread. The envelope was heavy, noteworthy like parchment. A wax seal guarded its contents, the image of a sparkling gold heart with a crossed pair of ornate keys embossed on the velvet surface. On the face of the envelope, written in navy blue calligraphy ink:

Axel Aldebrand

0123 Copperfield Lane

4th District, Traverse Town

Axel left the envelope unopened. 

He had no idea how long he lay on the couch, staring blankly at the ceiling until sleep finally took him. The late hours of the night were cast adrift in a sea of darkness, a whole world of the past churning dreams like waves in a tempest. Music drifted softly from the red vinyl disc spinning like a ballerina. Side B.

_It could have been a couple days. Eternal._

_A fleeting century. Ephemeral._

_It’s all just borrowed time._

_I only knew you for a little while._

_In the backseat of the M3, sunset gazing on me._

_Now I know how long forever really is._

_Three hundred fifty-eight._

_We had a lifetime in those twilights._

_Three. Five. Eight._

_I’ll see you on the other side._

_If only just to tell you: hey, old friend._

_I kept my promise._

_In another life, I hope you’ll find this message in a bottle._

_Three. Five. Eight._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the house where I spent my childhood summers, the address truly did start with 123.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading :) The next update will be on August 20! In the meantime, please feel free to say hi on Tumblr and check out some art (link in my profile). I'm very active on there and always love to chat!


	2. Favourite Song

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're back here for round two, I just wanna say: thank you :)
> 
> This one goes out to the finish line on the horizon, the reward for patience, time, and distance.

There were three reasons why Roxas had chosen to spend the past year holed up in his new cliffside home on Starfall Drive. Apart from the comforting privacy of the surrounding redwoods and the beautiful panoramic view of Osment Bay from the living room, it also happened to be ten minutes away from where Sora lived. Considering how his brother had been the stalwart pillar keeping his sanity intact for the past couple of months, Roxas couldn't have imagined being anywhere else in the world. If not for Sora, he might have chosen to live somewhere as close to the moon as possible.

Sitting at the grand piano in his living room, its beautiful ivory surface rosy and gold in the twilight sun, he felt a quiet heaviness in his chest as he stared out into the cosmic view of the bay. The singular lofty window in his living room served as a painting in motion, larger than life and immaculately serene. It was a sight to behold, encompassing the full dynamic interplay of the sky where it melted into kilometres of gold coast and sapphire waves. That alone was worth the monumental price tag of the house. Gazing into the infinite mirror of the ocean, the silence that engulfed his home was a welcome reprieve as stormy thoughts churned, muffled chaos in his mind.

He'd come home from his first big tour a year ago. After spending an explosively glamorous and exhausting concert circuit promoting his debut album, CARDINAL, he'd been left feeling like a hollow shell. And Roxas finally relented to the ceaseless longing in his weary heart, an estranged internal voice beseeching him to disappear from the public eye. It was a desire that had dogged his conscious moments since his performance at the iconic Admiral Benbow Inn. Back then, he'd just been an opener for Demyx's after party. Roxas played to an audience of less than two hundred people. That was the last time he’d headline for a crowd that small ever again. 

Before he even began to understand the extravagant scale of his own rising fame, Roxas felt like he’d been suddenly thrust into the global spotlight, faced with outlandish demands from his record label and the haunting echo of thousands of people screaming his name, drowning out performances of songs he’d written in searing intimacy. He steered clear of interviews, pleading requests from networks to have him on this episode or that talk show, charity balls, and lavish parties thrown for the sake of burning wealth on the hedonistic pyre of high society. For as long as he could, he dodged the ceaseless demands to make one-dimensional media appearances, caught up in his own private reservations about who the hell he was supposed to be in front of all those cameras and microphones. Somehow, he doubted if people actually wanted him to be who he really was, instead of some palatable and charming celebrity package of the truth. Even catering to the idea of fame in his private moments made him feel estranged from himself, in a way that deeply terrified him. It felt as though there were a million versions of him that lived out there, in the void of people's minds, and Roxas had no idea what kind of expectations he was constantly having to measure up to whenever he got up on stage or faced the cameras. With a searing and private sense of integrity, he told himself that if he couldn't square up to that loss of control, then he was better off melting into the silence. But in his efforts to remain elusive, it made the world want him more.

When he signed with Scala ad Caelum years ago, Roxas had been under the naive impression that his career would be nothing but a self-actualized odyssey of songwriting. Before his first record deal, he’d been writing songs for other people for years, producing and recording under different artists without having his name on any credits. That was how it went in the industry. A lesser beauty though it was, one of the better jobs was grinding behind the scenes and collaborating on the hits behind the big names. You produced and kept writing, and hopefully somebody important would one day take notice.

For most people who tried to make it, gaining even a small amount of recognition took a lifetime. For those who got lucky (which Roxas considered himself to be) if the right people heard the right song, it could be a one-way ticket to a record deal. And he’d put himself out on a limb, all those years ago when he was barely twenty, in a time when people all across the world had yet to know his name. After years of working on other people's music, Roxas had decided to give a singular, ardent shout into the void in the form of a rudimentary mixtape. Stripped down, intimate and lascivious, his younger voice had been a rhythmic sensuality of obscure storytelling, personal snapshots of a familiar journey into a reckless, passionate spring from the winter of boyhood. And his decisive and fluid production had been a blend of tactile sound that defied the limitations of any single genre, evoking an eager thirst for more from those who tuned in to listen. It was clear from that first masterful project that he was on the path to something new and invigorating.

It had worked in his favour. A week barely went by since he’d put it out for the world to hear, the work of a nobody floating humbly on the ether of the cloud, before word of his production spread like wildfire. It eventually reached receptive ears from fellow artists at Scala ad Caelum, arguably the most exclusive record label on the face of the earth. Before Roxas could even understand how much his life was about to change, he’d found himself caught up in a whirlwind. There were suddenly very important people demanding an audience with him. A week after turning twenty, he found himself on a private jet, flying east to work on his first full credit feature at the famous Restoration Site recording studio. Scala ad Caelum had begun its courtship to secure his first record deal. It had all been a mind-bending ride from there.

It was something he’d dreamed of for as long as he could remember. But the reality of being a record label musician turned out to be far different from what he'd expected and nothing made him feel more like a stupid, naive boy. After the release of his first album, _CARDINAL_ , and its subsequent meteoric success, it was like the record label turned its monolithic eye and saw him as more than a rookie for the very first time. Everyone had expected him to write nothing more than a summer album, something that was fit for a season of radio play and premature nostalgia. But Roxas had blown the doors wide open to a different genre of sound, molding the ethos of blues, electronic and hiphop hallmarks, and soulful funk into something that was entirely his own. And the critics and fans ate it up. Suddenly, the focus of the puppet strings was shifted. The record label execs looked at his poetic beauty—the striking perfection of high cheekbones, golden hair, and midnight blue eyes—and saw the flashing dollar signs of lucrative star quality in the making. With machinations unbeknownst to him during the time of his album release, Roxas had signed an agreement to play fourteen dates and run the festival circuits, motivated by the implied promise of more albums in the near future. 

He learned very early into the tour that there was only so much showmanship he could stand. Few people possessed the Olympian endurance required to get up on stage multiple times a week in front of thousands of people and pretend to be a big, important _somebody_. But Roxas had a one-track mind and if the harrowing concert circuit led to more studio time, then he told himself he'd bear with it. But little did he know that the goal of the agreement had been primarily to get his "brand" and “sex appeal” out into the world, creating the framework for a PR nightmare that was entirely contrary to his personal goals.

After headlining Aurora Valley last fall, he’d been relieved that the terms of his contract had reached their conclusion in Destiny Islands. Since the beginning of the concert circuit, he’d been looking forward to finally being back in the studio and spending time with his family and friends. He’d had enough. Roxas didn’t like the person he became when he set foot on stage. He could see the writing on the wall from where he stood on the edge of the horizon: fame was corrosive and he wanted no part of it.

But the record label had other plans. He’d been in Destiny Islands for all of a week before thinly veiled demands made their way down the chain of command: there was an agreement for a world tour in his early future. There had been mentions of mind boggling pay cheques, something outlandish and beyond his scope of imagination. And the zeroes were alluded to as if the idea alone should have swayed him on the spot. Roxas couldn't remember feeling angrier in his whole life.

The proposal was met with the deafening fury of his refusal.

In complete and total defiance, Roxas remained in Destiny Islands with no plans to head east to negotiate at the head office in Radiant Garden. With the millions that he’d earned in startling quickness, he found a home on the northern end of Starfall Drive, one that was far smaller than the other homes in that area, but as far removed from the rest of the city as possible. And he stayed icy and quiet. In the following months of media silence, the whole world was left thinking that he’d disappeared from the face of the earth. Under mounting pressure from the media, the record label eventually contacted him in a begrudging attempt to hear his side of the story.

“I don’t give a shit about selling stadiums. I’ve held up my end of the contract,” Roxas said with cold finality during a call with his manager and a label representative. “I’m not doing interviews or any appearances for that matter. Now or ever. I did this so I could make music and if they want me to keep doing the same pony tricks I have been for the past two years, then we will never see eye to eye. I get paid to write, not to be their frontman celebrity puppet. I’m _done_ touring until the label signs me for another album.”

He’d put his foot down. The plans for a world tour were tossed out the window but there was also no word about a new record deal either. It seemed that the execs hadn’t liked what he had to say and he was, for all intents and purposes, being shelved until he was ready to fall in line. But Roxas’s word was final. 

For better or for worse, his decision led to the standstill of his career for the past year. The struggle for control escalated tensions between him and the label, to the point where peace seemed far from possible. And in the powerful absence of his presence from the airwaves, the public continued to demand an explanation for his sudden disappearance at the height of success. Both he and Scala ad Caelum remained eerily silent. If there was one area in which they were in agreement, it was that their dirty laundry stayed between them.

Which was just as well, Roxas figured. Even if his songs kept funneling money into the label during this interim, he could still keep making music on his own time. And it wouldn’t be in the interest of radio play or royalties. For the first time since CARDINAL, he could write for himself again. 

Even after having a year's worth of time to reflect, he never doubted for a moment that he'd done the right thing. He'd chosen the integrity of his soul over money and that in itself was a priceless comfort. He hadn't been in the game for that long but he'd already seen the ugly result of being blinded by the dollar signs. And he wasn't naive enough to believe that signing on to a world tour would have led him to more album deals. If anything, signing the agreement would have been painted him as the type of empty-headed money-hungry puppet that would bend over backwards if there were enough commas on a cheque.

Roxas reminded himself of that everyday, holed up in his new sanctuary on Starfall Drive. After years of being on the road, he felt at peace being anchored in one place for longer than a month. He had no idea how permanent it would be, but for the time being, he felt that it was enough. Ensconced in the intimacy of his private life, he continued to write. In a strange way, the silence felt like revelatory freedom. At twenty-three years old, he’d succeeded beyond his wildest dreams. He had an album that was one of the most celebrated works of music in the past decade and he knew his worth. He reckoned that he had all the time in the world to force the hands of the powers that be.

The self-imposed sabbatical also happened to coincide with his brother’s engagement, which gave Roxas ample distraction from his ongoing feud with the record label executives. Presently, he was waiting for Sora, who was set to arrive at his house at any minute. Roxas’s older half-brother lived on the southern end of Starfall Drive, in the luxurious monstrosity of the Aurelius Estate, where he was currently grabbing more clothes to take back with him. Roxas’s house, a pleasant but far humbler four-bedroom retreat on the clifftops, was where Sora had been staying for the past couple of weeks. 

“It gets pretty lonely out there sometimes,” Sora had explained sheepishly after the sixth night sleeping over. “Riku’s away filming and my dad is running Leon and Aerith ragged in Radiant Garden doing who knows what. These days it’s just me and Aeleus—don’t get me wrong, I love the guy. But there’s only so many times I can play crib because he won’t bother learning Street Fighter combos.”

“Sora, I _like_ that you’re here with me,” Roxas had laughed in response. “I wouldn’t have a house on the islands if I didn’t wanna have you over you all the time.”

“I’m counting my lucky stars,” Sora beamed. “I get to hang out with my favourite person in the world and you also happen to let me win at video games sometimes.”

“I guess I have that one up over Riku.”

Sora grimaced. 

“Please don’t tell him I said you’re my favourite person.”

Roxas’s smile was the epitome of smug satisfaction.

“I don’t have to. It’d be obvious if he was here to pay attention.”

Of course he was happy that Sora was finally marrying the love of his life. But there was always going to be a stubborn part of Roxas that kept Riku on thin ice. He was fully aware that the pettiness of his own grudge stemmed from bygone mistakes, that by now really should have passed as water under the bridge. That was part of the reason why Roxas would never have the gall to talk about it at length with Sora. The sheer ugliness of indulging in his own bitter feelings about Riku's past behaviour was something that bothered Roxas for more than one reason and it was something he actively avoided thinking about. Aside from their mother, there wasn’t another person in the whole world who Roxas loved more than Sora. So if his doubts about Riku’s intentions were only slightly ameliorated by the engagement, then Roxas counted that as record improvement in the shaky relationship he had with his soon to be brother-in-law.

With the wedding only two months away, Sora had been in want of much needed help with preparations and fun distractions from the looming stress of the event. As his best man, Roxas had been more than happy to smooth out parts of the planning and keep Sora company while his movie star betrothed was on the road. And if Roxas was being completely honest with himself, having Sora around went a long way towards helping him hold it together. As he ignored the looming demands to make up his mind about contract renegotiations, he had to admit that spending time with family was preferable to driving himself up the wall indulging in solitary work-related angst.

When Sora finally arrived at the house, with a duffel bag of clothes in tow as well as takeout from Land of Dragons, Roxas welcomed the sunny change in atmosphere. The two of them made their way out on the balcony. With the overlooking ocean view in front of them, they sat in the lounge chairs, eating dinner straight from the boxes.

“Where did you say Riku was?” Roxas asked, wrestling with a piece of shrimp entangled in noodles in a poor attempt to conceal his lack of subtlety.

Unphased, Sora shrugged and spoke through a mouthful of egg foo yong.

“Somewhere on business.”

Roxas raised a brow, abandoning his shrimp.

“He didn’t tell you where he’d be for the weekend?”

Sora groaned. 

“Lay off him, Roxas. Riku’s just trying to wrap up work before the wedding. You know he took _four_ months off so we could spend our honeymoon travelling across Spira?”

Sora’s ocean blue eyes were filled with a quiet plea, imploring that they talk about literally anything else. Feeling summarily chastised, Roxas set his food down and capitulated.

“Actually, no. I didn’t know that.” 

He spent two weeks in Spira during his tour and it was admittedly one of the most beautiful places he’d ever visited. There was also something uniquely pleasurable about imagining Riku trying to survive in the tropical jungle for four months so the idea grew on him fairly quickly. 

“That sounds amazing. Sorry … that came off a little harsh. I just don’t want you to deal with everything here by yourself with only two more months to go.”

“I’m not though,” Sora gave him a confident smile. “I have you here to help me! There’s also Kairi, Demyx, Aerith, Leon and mom whenever they’re back in town—the list goes on. I’m not alone, Rox. In fact, I feel like I’ve hardly had to lift a finger.” He placed his takeout on the glass coffee table and stretched out on the lounge chair. With carefree optimism, Sora crossed his arms behind his head, projecting the radiant optimism of someone who'd paid off the class valedictorian to do his homework. “You know what’s truly topnotch-amazing? Kairi took it upon herself to pick out the perfect ironwood garden chairs for the rehearsal dinner. It didn’t even occur to me that regular wooden chairs would clash with the serviettes. If you weren’t my brother, she’d definitely be maid of honour.”

Roxas threw him a cheeky grin.

“She gets to be the MVP for steering you away from the travesty of tacky decor when I’ve been hard at work, practicing the song for your first dance?”

Sora turned to him eagerly, summery ocean blues brimming with excitement.

“I’m _kidding_ , Rox. You know I love you best! Can I hear it?”

He smiled indulgently.

“Of course. I’ll play it on the piano.”

They moved inside, leaving the windows open so that the ocean breeze could flutter in, providing the space with a gossamer airiness. Roxas sat on the piano bench and Sora sprawled out on the couch, leaning in close. Long fingers splayed across the black and white keys, then moved with effortless grace over the cool ivory. The room was filled with a gentle melody, a slow and delicate progress of love.

“It’s a little bit funny,” Roxas sang, soft and sweet. “This feelin’ inside. I’m not one of those who can easily hide.”

Sora’s smile glowed impossibly bright as he recognized the verse.

“I don’t have much money, but boy if I did. I’d buy a big house where we both could live. If I was a sculptor … but then again, no. Or a man who makes potions in a travelin’ show. Oh, I know it’s not much, but it’s the best I can do. My gift is my song and this one’s for you.”

As Roxas sang, twilight sunbeams sailed into the room, reflecting off the lacquered white piano in a generous outpouring of gold from the horizon. It seemed like the whole world moved just a little bit slower then, making time for them to stay a while in that moment of tenderness. The dying light of day mingled with the ocean breeze and a rising feeling of indescribable warmth filled the space, connecting the two of them from across the room.

“I hope you don’t mind that I put down in words how wonderful life is while you’re in the world.”

Roxas sang the last verse in a gentle whisper, playing the rest of the melody with gracious poise. When he finished, the last of the notes stretched into a conclusion, gently drifting off into silence. He looked up to see the glimmering mist in Sora’s eyes and couldn’t help but laugh softly.

“I hope that was okay.”

“Roxas, that was _perfect_.” Sora rubbed the tears away, giving him a wobbly, sentimental smile. “You couldn't have picked a better song for us. That’s the best present anyone could ever give.”

Hopping over the bench, Roxas stood up and made his way over to Sora. Sitting down beside him, he threw an arm over his brother’s shoulders, giving a firm squeeze before murmuring gently, “Thanks, that means a lot. But I’m still getting you an actual present.”

“You know you don’t _have_ to. You’ve already helped with so much.” Sora elbowed him playfully, cheeks pink. “ _Ugh_ , sorry, I can’t stop crying. I’m just so happy.” 

Tears streamed freely down his cheeks as he tried to laugh it off. Something in Roxas’s heart gave way, like the falling of autumn leaves, as the hitch in Sora’s voice grew watery and sweet when he spoke with warm emotion. 

“Have I ever told you … when you sing, you look so much like mom. You’re both impossibly beautiful, it breaks my heart a little. It’s times like these when I think about how grateful I am to have people like you in my life. And soon I’m getting married to the most caring man in the world … and I have to wonder how I could’ve gotten so lucky.”

Roxas felt the corner of his lip tilt up ever so slightly. He thought back to a time when he and Sora only saw each other for a week every summer. They had grown up in vastly different worlds: Roxas’s childhood was spent in the sleepy reclusiveness of Twilight Town, sharing a modest two-bedroom apartment with their mom. Meanwhile, Sora had remained ensconced in the mystifying privilege of his father’s estate on Destiny Islands. He’d been raised under the care of Leon and Aerith, who were kind people but were nonetheless still under his father’s employ. Their parents’ situation was something that they only began to understand, little by little, in the early years of adulthood. But living so close together now after spending their childhoods apart gave them a mutual feeling of constant overwhelming gratitude.

“I’m the lucky one, Sora.” Roxas chuckled, ruffling sugar brown hair playfully. “I get to have you as a brother.”

Ocean blues swam with hot tears. Sora groaned.

“Quit being so sweet, Rox. I can’t keep crying like this.”

“Yeah, if Riku hears I made you cry, I might actually have to fight him.” When Sora elbowed him hard in the ribs, Roxas yelped in protest. “Don’t be mad because you know I’d win!”

“Doesn’t matter because I’d never let you guys clobber each other like idiots.”

“So you agree?”

“What?”

“You know I’d win.”

“Yeah, but … don’t tell him.”

"Secret's safe with me."

For the rest of the evening, Sora vented about dealing with flower arrangements, centerpieces, and the mind numbing monotony of having to set up a registry. And Roxas nodded along, listening as he idly played disjointed melodies of different songs on the piano.

“You have no idea how thrilled I’m going to be once the day actually arrives and I can just enjoy being married,” Sora sighed as he emphatically squeezed a throw pillow from where he was sprawled on the couch. “There’s so _much_ to think about. Nobody ever tells you about the subtle intricacies of table seating hierarchy.”

Remembering the petty squabbles that would ensue over who sat next to who at awards shows and galas, Roxas nodded stiffly in agreement.

“Which reminds me …”

The tone of innocent curiosity sent an ominous chill down Roxas’s spine.

“Do you have a date for the wedding?”

He should have seen it coming from a mile away. But the deplorable reality found him backed into a corner, unarmed and caught off guard. The truth was that Roxas had barely thought about it at all. In his newly hermetic lifestyle of writing and spending time with Sora, it genuinely hadn’t crossed his mind that bringing a date to the wedding might have been of some importance. Without looking up, he played a few chords and mulled over his answer for a brief moment.

“I think Pence would agree if I asked him out.”

Sora scowled.

“Maybe if he wasn’t already going with Olette.”

“Then I’ll go on my own.” Roxas caught the dubious look on his brother’s face. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Oh, I dunno, Rox. Over half the men and women of this world are head over heels in love with you. You could ask _anyone_ and most people would fall all over themselves to say yes.”

Roxas physically recoiled at the thought.

“There’s no one I’m interested in and I'm not exactly looking to ... date around or whatever. And if you haven’t noticed, my recent commitments have been to you and my work. I haven’t left the house in over a week.”

“Last time I checked, I was the older brother here. You’re talking like you’re fifty. Isn’t there someone you’re seeing?” Sora sat up and gave him a pointed stare. “Well, before all that shitty stuff happened with the record label. You were spending a lot of time in Mont—”

Roxas shook his head, lips settling into a deep frown, dark eyes indecipherable. 

“That didn’t work out.”

“Oh.” 

Trying not to look too dejected, Sora lay back down on the couch and was quiet for a few minutes as he stared up at the ceiling.

“Sorry …”

Roxas sighed. 

“Don’t be. It was for the best.”

“You know I don’t want to be nosy, but …” Sora hesitated, biting his lip. “I feel like as your brother, you should be able to talk to me about anything, you know?”

“I know,” Roxas sighed. “But also, as your brother, I feel like you don’t _really_ want to know what I’m up to when I’m on the road.”

Sora gave him a skeptical glance. 

“Enlighten me. What _do_ you do?”

“After I play a venue, I head straight back to my hotel room like a good boy. Then I have a glass of milk before going to bed at a responsible hour.”

That was met with an eye roll.

“Fine. Keep your naughty secrets,” Sora huffed. “All I’m trying to say is that I love you and I want you to be happy.”

Roxas gave him an incredulous look. 

“What makes you think I’m not happy?”

“I’m not saying you’re _miserable_. But I don’t think I’ve actually seen you with anybody. I guess … not since—”

“I’m twenty-three,” Roxas interjected, attempting to curb the sudden rush in his pulse. If Sora was going to wax poetic about the virtues of long-term relationships, he wasn't quite sure if he'd be able to keep his dinner down. “I’m not looking for commitment any time soon.”

Sora looked a little sad. 

“Do you mind if I ask you something?”

“You know you can ask me anything,” Roxas muttered half-heartedly.

“The person you were seeing most recently,” Sora ventured carefully, “did you love them?”

Looking down to where his hands were resting motionless on the piano keys, Roxas swallowed past the dryness in his throat. If anyone else had asked the question, he might have clammed up and changed the subject. But because it was Sora, he couldn’t bring himself to be dishonest. 

“Of course I did.” He avoided his brother’s gaze. “But there aren’t many people who’d be perfectly happy in a relationship with someone who’s gone for most of the year.”

“Yeah. That makes sense.”

It was a haunting and personal sentiment for both of them, but they were careful not to reveal the feelings simmering underneath that loaded subject. They were silent for a while, letting the whisper of the night air settle in the space between them. There was a moment of authentic worry, a real fear of running out of things to say. But then Roxas broke the silence, gently tapping the piano keys in a serene arpeggio.

“You shouldn’t worry about me.” He looked up with a smile, midnight blue eyes like sparkling starlight underneath his long golden fringe. “What you and Riku have … I’ll find something like that one day.” Roxas raised his arms up in a stretch, then gave the most casual of winks. “In the meantime, I’m sure I can find a pretty girl who’ll take pity on me and agree to be my date.”

“You’re hilarious,” Sora grunted but smiled nonetheless.

They eventually retreated to Roxas’s room to wind down with a movie for the evening. But it wasn’t long before Sora dozed off. Hearing his brother’s peaceful snoring, Roxas shook his head, muttering something about it being too early, but gently tucked him in anyway. As he slowly stepped off the mattress to turn the lights off, he heard a quiet murmur as Sora stirred. 

“Did you say something, Sora?” he whispered, leaning in close. 

“I love you, Rox,” came the barely audible words, muttered against the downy softness of a pillow. “I want you to be happy … you deserve … someone who loves you. So much.”

Roxas lingered for a moment, watching the rise and fall of Sora’s chest as he fell into a deep sleep. He lifted his hand, feather light, and let his fingers smooth over soft sugar brown hair. 

He turned to leave. Before shutting the door behind him, he cast one last look at the huddled form on his bed, a tenuous smile tugging at the corner of his lips. 

“I love you, too. Goodnight, Sora.”

In the dark stillness of the house, the rooms filled with the faint glow of moonlight, Roxas gravitated naturally back to the piano. He sat on the bench and placed his fingers on the keys. For a moment, his hands hovered like hesitant birds, wondering if they should play one of the new songs he was working on. He wasn’t keen on going to sleep any time soon and the most he could do was keep on working. At least, that was what he kept telling himself. He sighed, lifting his hands to run shaky fingers through his hair and leaned his forehead against the cool surface of the piano.

When he heard the melody drifting through his heart like a ghost, he knew he had to listen. He was thankful for the lonely silence, knowing that the moonlight and the ocean breeze would never pry.

Roxas closed his eyes and let his fingers drift over the cool ivory. With a few gentle taps, he played a familiar sequence of notes, bittersweet and loving. In a broken whisper, he sang a song that he’d written a very long time ago. When he finished, he let the last of the notes fade off in a haunting resonance until the room was engulfed in silence once more. In the comforting solitude of night, he reached up to pull a delicate gold chain from underneath his shirt. Roxas felt the heavy pendulum swing of the gold ring that he'd kept close to his chest for the past five years. Set into the wide band was a large clear cut diamond with rubies on either side. The gems glimmered in the moonlight with a hazy sense of tranquility.

He couldn’t bring himself to think of why, even all these years, he still felt a distant ache in his chest when he thought about the scarlet rays in sunsets and messages in a bottle.

* * *

The next morning, Sora made his way downtown to meet Kairi for brunch and wedding shopping. Roxas, who was deeply averse to the idea of being in public, beat a strategic and hasty retreat into his basement studio at the mere mention of “picking out gift bag items.” He spent an unproductive hour rearranging sample crates in Serato when he noticed a new message from Demyx on his phone. 

_Busy?_

Accustomed to the random check-ins, Roxas picked up the phone and responded. 

_If Sora asks, yeah. I’m completely swamped with recording vocals right now._

_Great. I’m coming over._

It wasn’t unusual for Demyx to drop by on the rare occasion when he was in the city. His preferred place of residence for most of the year was Radiant Garden, but during the fall and winter months of the rainy season he often found his way out west for a bit of sunshine and company. He had a townhouse in the lower valley, closer to the busier metropolitan area, which was a twenty minute drive east from where Roxas lived. Being that he was one of Scala ad Caelum’s chart topping artists (if not _the_ most coveted artist of the label apart from Tidus), he and Roxas had become close friends over the past few years. Having worked closely together on a handful of occasions, the two of them had a shared understanding of life within that far flung realm of fame. But whereas Roxas preferred to stay out of the spotlight, Demyx was cut from an entirely different cloth. 

The only son of the McKenna family, a dynastic lineage of musical talent that hailed from Port Royal, he had always been destined for a career in music. His father and mother were both alumni and lifelong donors of the Black Pearl Conservatory. So Demyx had grown up living and breathing music, classically trained since birth, and could play five different instruments by the time he was six years old. There had been no question that he would follow in his parents’ footsteps. Few however, would have predicted his venture into psychedelic rock, which had propelled him to worldwide stardom by the time he was seventeen.

Demyx was a global sensation, a rare breed of natural performer, possessing unmatched stage presence and an Olympian endurance for showmanship and celebrity obligations. It also didn’t hurt that he’d grown up meeting musicians and actors from all across the world at his parents’ lavish tropical seaside parties. There were very few people who understood how to navigate the industry intimately in the way he did. Roxas had come to Demyx more than a few times in moments when he'd found himself needing guidance.

But since the chilly falling out with the label, Demyx had very little to give Roxas in the way of professional advice. But behind closed doors they remained steadfast friends and Roxas had his full support. They both knew that it was par for the course for Scala ad Caleum to bone artists out of fair deals, especially ones who were lesser known and didn’t have dynastic industry connections. Roxas might have been the world's most beloved sweetheart but that didn't mean he was bulletproof. But with the kind of leverage Demyx and his family had, he promised that should Roxas ever need him, he’d be there to help. The promise (and veiled threat) carried weight.

Roxas had yet to take him up on the offer (and probably never would), not wanting the friction to bleed into other parts of his life. But he’d also found an odd contentment with his break from the spotlight. As far as the feud was concerned, he was of the opinion that the ball was in the label’s court. In a way, Demyx understood his intentions and kept the legal bloodhounds at bay for the time being. So for the past year, thanks to Roxas’s open schedule, the two of them found quite a few opportunities to hang out beyond the confines of work. But when Demyx arrived at his house that morning, Roxas could immediately tell that this wasn’t the typical friendly visit.

“You know where Riku went this weekend?” Demyx asked, completely rhetorical and straight to the point. 

They took a seat on the balcony. Roxas opened two bottles of ice cold beer, handing one to Demyx with an indifferent shrug.

“Not in town, but that’s not new.”

“True. However,” Demyx took a sip of the lager, bright cyan eyes covert and secretive, “what _is_ new and intriguing happens to be his destination. Tell me, what is there to do in Traverse Town?”

Roxas thought about it for a moment.

“Seeing Geppetto’s House,” he answered. “I’ve heard it’s actually not as impressive in person.”

“Unfortunately, you’ve heard right. But what else is there?”

“I dunno, Dem. Disappointed tourists and rinky dink souvenir shops. I feel like I’m not quite following the trail of breadcrumbs here. Why would Riku be in Traverse Town?”

“Well, it so happens that located there is the Hundred Acres Rehabilitation Centre. And in town is the Avalanche tattoo parlour. Who do you think Riku could be visiting there this close to the wedding?”

As the dawning realization hit Roxas, the world tunneled in his vision, all noise plunging underneath the sudden and deafening roar in between his ears. For a moment, it was like he’d fallen off a cliff, his lungs robbed clear of air as his heart sank into some dark unfathomable depth of chilling and cruel vulnerability.

Seeing his shock, Demyx sighed and nodded at the bottle in Roxas’s grasp.

“You might need that.”

Shakily, Roxas took a long gulp. It took a few minutes before he collected himself well enough to speak.

“I see.” He leveled Demyx with a burning look. “I’m assuming … no. I don’t wanna guess. Just tell me. That’s why you’re here, right?”

Demyx nodded, his expression solemn.

“Yeah. Axel’s going to be at the wedding. I figured you should know,” he responded, clear-cut and levelheaded. “He and Riku go _way back_ , Rox. And … I’m his friend, too.” His trademark mellow attitude was gone and in its place was a somber candidness. “Listen, I don’t know exactly what happened between you two all those years ago, but there’s no way Riku won’t invite him to the wedding. I’m sure he was gonna tell you eventually but I’d hate for you to be blindsided too close to the date.”

Roxas nodded stiffly.

“I appreciate you telling me,” his words were rigidly cordial. He stood up to lean against the glass railing of the balcony, beer in hand, and stared down at the waves crashing against the cliffs. 

_Deep breath in. And out._

The line of his shoulders relaxed. Turning to Demyx, Roxas let out a strange, airy laugh as he threaded long fingers to push back his long golden hair. When Demyx gave him a concerned look, he leaned back, cracking a smile.

“Don’t you think it’s a little funny?”

“Uh … no? What is?”

“It’s been almost five years since I last saw him.” Roxas gave an unconvincing shrug. “I shouldn’t care at all.”

“I don’t know if that’s how it works.”

“We were never together.”

“Does it matter?” Demyx’s eyes were impossibly blue and clear in the sunlight, a haunting oasis of insight. “Sometimes the hardest people to get over are the ones we never got to be with.”

Roxas furrowed his brow. He sensed that the words came from a very personal place, but he didn’t pry. The two of them were good enough friends to know, without ever discussing it at length, that they both had their fair share of sorrow when it came to matters of the heart.

“You guys talk pretty often?” Roxas asked, the words belying an unspoken tenderness.

There was a moment of hesitation.

“Yeah. We keep in touch. I try to visit him when I can. I take my cars to the autobody shop in Traverse Town every once in a while and he's been posted up there for the past two years. I ... I wasn't sure if you've kept up with him at all.”

Roxas _hadn't_. The last he'd heard from Axel was five years ago, when he'd left Destiny Islands after being there for exactly three hundred and fifty-eight days. When dozens of his calls were left unanswered in that hazy summer of volatile, unbearable heartbreak, Roxas had stopped trying to reach him. But the world was a small and strange place so of course news would reach him here and there, despite the fact that he had no desire at all to seek out answers, at least not anymore. He knew vaguely of Axel's second foray into rehab, his venture into photography and tattooing. But apart from that, Roxas had been careful to steer clear of that morose land of misplaced nostalgia.

Still ... he knew in the present moment that he had loved Axel once, truly and with his whole heart. And that undeniable recollection softened him to the thought of a possible reunion. Roxas felt the edges of his eyes crinkling as he lifted his lips in a half-hearted smile.

“Could you just tell me one thing?”

Vague uncertainty gave Demyx pause but nonetheless he nodded.

“Sure, Roxas.”

His smile turned serene, midnight blue eyes glowing with humble gratitude.

“Is Axel happy?”

Demyx looked at him closely, that boy he’d come to know as a younger brother in a lot of ways, and was struck by the simplicity of his question. He’d arrived that day only with the intention of giving Roxas the courtesy of a heads up, a gesture that Demyx himself would appreciate. If he was going to an event where he’d run into someone he had history with, he’d also want his friends to keep him in the loop. He’d visited today to do just that, but he hadn’t known how Roxas would react.

Roxas often had a tendency to surprise him. Demyx had always known him to be more serious than most people, an artist whose passion was exclusively devoted to his loved ones and the self-possessed perfection of his work. It was easy to mistake his reticence as an insurmountable emotional wall. So when he revealed, in moments just like this, the tender, open heart that always sat close to the surface, it was impossible not to fall in love with him just a little. Underneath the pale glow of the morning sun, Demyx (who, as a musician, was routinely surrounded by the most stunning people in the world) was overcome by the poignant, incomparable beauty of the young man in front of him. Perfect, human, and vulnerable, with no expectation other than a plain and simple truth.

It was the least Demyx could give him.

“Yes, Rox. He’s happy.”

A tranquil smile, fleeting starlight shimmered in midnight blue eyes.

“Then I’m happy, too.”

Roxas sighed, running a hand through his shoulder-length hair, craning his neck up to face the morning sun. The corner of his lips were tilted up, slight and gentle, a wave of authentic serenity washing his features clean of misgivings. In its wake was an expression of calm acceptance.

“Thanks for telling me, Dem. It means a lot. You're a good friend ... you always have been. To tell you the truth, I’m … I’m looking forward to seeing him again. It’ll be nice. Meeting with an old friend.”

There was no reason to doubt him when he said it.

Demyx understood immediately how even the most obstinate cynics of love were able to willingly surrender themselves to Roxas. And it wasn’t a new realization either. Years ago, he’d known a lost young man who was determined to wander across the world forever, aimlessly chasing sunsets. He’d said to Demyx, “There isn’t anything on this earth that can keep me in one place.” And then that young man met Roxas and the meaning of sunsets changed forever.

* * *

Five years ago, back when Roxas was just about to turn eighteen, he’d been accepted into Cove Point University, the most prestigious school for music in the west. So he moved from Twilight Town to Destiny Islands, ready to start a new chapter of his life. And on that first night on the islands, he’d found himself at a Cove Point party, playing his mom’s favourite song on a beautiful baby grand piano. Suffused in the atmosphere of west coast society, where everything and everyone glimmered with idealistic wealth and youthful promise, he sang softly and lovingly.

_Paint a perfect picture. Bring to life a vision in one’s mind. The beautiful ones always smash the picture. Always every time._

In the presence of vaulted ceilings and the cool indifference of aristocratic, unfamiliar crowds, abstract crystal chandeliers cast glitter all across the room. The air swam with the gossamer shimmer of diamonds as girls danced hand in hand around him. Twinkling laughter and the scent of carnations and champagne mingled with the sweet, familiar melody from his childhood. And in that brief moment of open intimacy, captivated green eyes saw Roxas from across the room for the very first time.

* * *

Five years ago, Riku’s life was crashing down around his ears and it felt like the end of the world.

Flying down the highway at daredevil speeds, the forest green hills of Destiny Islands seemed to creep up with advanced haste from the edge of the horizon. A whole world of the past began to close in like dark clouds. Riku thought back on the last time he’d been home and felt claustrophobic dread. 

He’d left when he was seventeen, willfully ambitious, naive, and stubborn, and he hadn’t looked back until now, returning with his tail between his legs at twenty-three. A lot had happened in the years between; he’d garnered success beyond his wildest dreams in the monolithic city of Radiant Garden and he had more money than he'd ever dreamed of having. But the time away also left pieces of his heart scattered across the world, almost as if he’d given too much of himself and now he couldn’t remember who he’d been before the fame. On that day in particular, as he fled from public humiliation, Riku was left wondering what it had all been for. He hadn’t expected to be coming home, nearly six years later, in a state of shame and painful alienation.

But he wasn’t quite alone.

By some humourless twist of fate, he’d found himself stranded in Traverse Town of all places. During his layover, he’d discovered with horror-stricken panic that connecting flights going to Destiny Islands had been cancelled for the next twenty hours. In the name of strategic retreat, he had to get home _fast_ , and laying low in that transient provincial town was totally out of the question. The media was on a wild bloodthirsty hunt to cut him down at his lowest and his manager had emphasized the importance of melting into the ether of silence—a powerful tool in the realm of damage control. But as word spread like wildfire about his whereabouts, Riku had to think fast about how the hell he was going to get out, with no car and no flights, and that was when he’d received a message from a number that had been silent for far too long.

_Heard from a little bird that you might be in town._

The most recent bit of news Riku had heard about Axel was that he’d checked in at the Hundred Acres Rehabilitation Centre in Traverse Town almost a year ago. The last time they’d seen each other, Axel had been twenty-two and Riku had been twenty-one, and they had screamed bloody murder at each other until one of them decided to walk away before fists started flying. That was two years ago.

There had been a time when Riku would have called Axel his best friend. Before the meteoric fame, before his first big break, way before the blowout fight and the fucked up overdose. Axel had been his closest ally, the only person in that dark, murky world behind the glamorous curtain of fame who truly gave a shit about him.

When Riku received that text, he wondered how Axel felt about him now, if he’d heard the rumours, if he cared at all. He had no answers, but then Axel called. And Riku answered, if only to find out for sure. He didn’t need to say much at all before Axel asked him where he was. Riku told him that he was still at the airport. Without a moment’s hesitation, Axel responded with decisive finality.

“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

And that was how Riku ended up flying south on the Trans Alsace Highway, sitting in the right side passenger seat of an invincible, gorgeous, and classic McLaren F1, wondering dimly how his life had been turned upside down in the merciless span of one day.

“I have absolutely _no_ idea how I wound up on Zack Fair’s yacht in the first place. The last thing I remember was passing out beside the toilet in some guy’s apartment and all of a sudden I’m _smack dab in the middle_ of the ocean on this boat with a bunch of people I didn’t know. Well, I kind of knew Zack. But he was pretty busy in the hot tub with a bunch of naked people—wasn’t about to get into all that and bother him with some dumb question. ‘Hey, I know we’re probably sailing international waters, but would you mind throwing some GPS coordinates my way?’ I was high as fuck so I couldn’t have done anything useful with that information. But a part of me thought I’d be a little more grounded in reality if I knew exactly where I was on the planet. That was my logic at the time.”

Riku grunted to indicate he was listening. Which he didn’t think was totally necessary, since Axel seemed sufficiently entertained hearing himself reminisce at length about his reckless past. As he had been for the last five hours.

“Eventually I put two and two together because I could see the temples of Luca glowing along the coast. And in my fucked up state of mind, the only thing I could think was, ‘Spira?! Man, I am halfway across the world from Midgar right now.’ Like I couldn’t even remember I’d flown out east that morning! But in that moment, I was truly under the impression that I’d lost twenty-four hours of my life in an obliterated fugue state. I kept getting stuck in this thought loop: I’d be high forever and chunks of my memories would keep getting lost in the void of oblivion. And that’s the worst thing you can think in that state of mind. Jesus, what a nightmare. 

“But there was something about the sky that night—something about how close the stars seemed—that helped anchor me to reality. So I was by myself on the deck, looking up at the constellation Libra, and I had this blissfully clear moment when I heard one of my favourite songs playing. The Beautiful Ones. It’s a classic. In the first verse, Prince goes, ‘Don’t make me waste my time. Don’t make me lose my mind.’ When the song ended, I kind of understood in some abstract way that things weren’t gonna last forever. Not the high, not the house boating luxury, not even my own body, and I found that kind of funny and relieving. Like thank god, I just get to sleep after all this is done, y’know? 

“And I ended up having a pretty good night overall. But let me tell you, I still never touched PCP again. I checked into rehab a couple months later.”

Riku had a really hard time deciding if this was, in his own twisted way, Axel’s attempt at providing some modicum of comfort. While the wild stories of bygone reckless years were certainly what one could call a distraction, it was still hard to ignore the cognitive dissonance it created deep within Riku’s soul. In another weird way, he might have been thankful for this reprieve from his own ruminating self-pity. It certainly gave him a whole bunch of other shit to think about. 

The Axel from the heyday of youthful debauchery was wildly different from the Axel sitting beside him in the McLaren now. At the tragedy of their last meeting, his hair had been much, _much_ shorter, his voice the very rattle of death, ill-tempered smoke smudged like charcoal around his eyes. Somewhere between the ages of eighteen to twenty-two, Axel had turned into a bitter stranger, bone deep exhaustion painfully transparent in his face. The gaunt apparition hurling angry words at Riku was the destructive result of years chasing one short-lived pleasure after another. It seemed like in the lost years between then and the present, he’d grown from being a wild reckless boy into the semblance of a half-tame man. Now, Axel’s skin held a flawlessly rosy and optimistic clarity, his green eyes bright and shrewd as ever, red hair flowing all the way down past his shoulders. Not to mention the alarming addition of at least a dozen tattoos, especially jarring of which were the long dark violet teardrops on his pale cheeks. 

The last time they’d seen each other, they hadn’t left off on a good note. But it wasn’t something either of them seemed in a hurry to address during that unexpected and surreal reunion. Without having to mention it at all, it was like the two of them simply understood that it wasn’t the most important thing just then. Riku also knew that in spite of everything, he was happy to have an old friend back. He thought that Axel might have felt the same way. 

“Hey, Axel. Thanks for doing this. For helping me out.” Riku kept his eyes locked on the horizon. “Back there … I really had no idea what I was gonna do.”

Axel shrugged, nonchalant, as if he did this kind of thing everyday, driving estranged friends five hours between cities.

“Don’t sweat it. Honestly, this worked out like hitting two birds with one stone. I checked out of the Acres a few days ago and I haven’t had much of a plan since. Thought about buying the next plane ticket outta there but didn’t quite get around to it. Then Demyx called this morning and asked me if I could stop by the car shop to pick up his baby here,” Axel gave the steering wheel a rather sensual caress (and Riku was just gonna go ahead and ignore that), “and take it down to the islands, which is where you’re heading.” He grinned, fox-like and inscrutable. “Funny how the stars align when you least expect.”

Riku couldn’t help but smile.

“No kidding.”

He could have asked Axel how rehab went. And Axel could have asked Riku why his name was plastered all over the tabloids.

Instead, Axel went on and on, enjoying the sound of his own voice as he talked about everything and nothing all at once. And Riku listened, thankful for the distraction. But as the familiar view of home crept closer and closer, it became that much harder to run away from the haunting memory of his seventeen-year-old self. Back then, he'd been so utterly convinced that he was doing the right thing. 

_Sora, I’m leaving._

_But … you’re coming back … Right?_

_Not until I’ve succeeded. I need to be able to prove myself._

_Riku, you don’t have to do this_ —

_I’ve made up my mind._

He felt the edges of his vision wobbling.

“So guess what? I’m vegan now. I _know_ what you’re thinking: Axel, _vegan_? HAH. If you went back in time a year ago and told little old me that I’d be plant-based and proud, I would have laughed you out the door. But after certain dining experiences, there’s just no turning back. My sojourn into this wonderful meat-free world started when they served chicken pesto at the Acres.”

Riku had enough presence of mind to cast a shocked look in Axel’s direction. Beyond that, his mind was caught up in a turbulent storm of conflict. Looking back on that day, Riku wished he could have told his younger self that everything was going to be okay. Because despite the fact that he was coming home with the most unlikely of allies, he still felt like the whole world was crashing down and there was nothing that could save him from drowning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're still here with me, I applaud you for giving me your time and patience haha. I dunno about you, but I personally struggle when I try to read anything in one sitting!
> 
> The next update will be on August 27 :) See ya then!


	3. Sixth Gear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one goes out to all the long drives, midnight cruises, easy conversations, not-so-easy things to say, and the constant blessing that is music.

When Roxas received his acceptance letter to Cove Point University along with a full scholarship, he should have been over the moon. And he was, for the most part. He had spent countless days practicing his audition, dozens of summer nights working double shifts at the diner to save money for his living expenses, and keeping his grades absurdly high to meet the rigid entrance requirements. And the work paid off. When the letter came in the mail, bearing a proud gilded trident crest on the lavish cardstock, he was overjoyed and relieved. But the emotions came with a private hesitation, a heavy doubt that held him back from premature celebration.

He could trace the threads of misgivings back to something his best friend had told him almost two years ago. In the summer before their junior year of high school, Hayner, who was turning sixteen in July, wanted to celebrate his birthday out on the lake with the gang. The sun had been high in the sky and the mountain air was scorching hot. So the four of them rushed into the cold glacial water like exuberant otters, splashing around and tossing a beach ball back and forth.

As the day settled into rosy yellow tones, Roxas watched as Olette and Pence collected wildflowers in the distance. He and Hayner remained along the shoreline, laying in the shade of black cottonwood trees, skipping stones and smoking cigarettes, feeling grown up and rebellious as they watched the reflection of the mountains fluttering across the water. And he was filled with cherished golden happiness. He was thankful to have one day where he didn’t have to worry about the future. All he had to do was sit beside his best friend, the person he felt closest to in the whole world, and enjoy the feeling of being carefree.

Then out of the blue, Hayner said something that shifted everything just slightly off-kilter.

“I know we can’t be together forever. So we better make the time we do have something to remember.”

Hearing that felt like a punch to the gut. With the flip of a switch, he was torn away from the moment and propelled forward into uncertainty.

“Where’d that come from?” Roxas asked with a shaky laugh, averting his gaze as he tossed his cigarette butt into a beer can.

Hayner gave an easy shrug, as if the answer should have been obvious.

“You’re getting into Cove Point. There’s no doubt about it.”

Roxas’s cheeks turned pink.

“Don’t jinx it. I haven’t submitted my application yet.”

“I’m _absolutely_ sure that you’re gonna make it. So quit selling yourself short,” Hayner scoffed. Then he turned to Roxas, bumping an elbow against his thigh, a lingering sensation of warm sun drenched skin. His hazel eyes were the summer solstice, intense and filled with enduring warmth. He leaned in closer just then and Roxas could feel the heat radiating off his body. Rooted to the spot, he had no choice but to meet Hayner’s gaze and struggled to ignore the racing of his heart. The whole world seemed to have grown unnaturally quiet and Roxas felt as though only the two of them existed then. Underneath the dappled sunlight, they were locked closely in that gaze for a brief eternity. A hundred unspoken feelings rushed like murky waves underneath his skin, a tide of heartbreaking desire that had never once felt the sun.

The silence broke as birds came rustling from the trees, swooping down from the branches overhead to glide over the waters. The tenuous moment dissolved in an instant.

Hayner grinned and chucked the last of his cigarette into an empty chip bag.

“I’ll race you to the diving rock.”

The two of them took off, kicking up rocky sand as they sprinted across the lakeshore. For the rest of the evening, the four of them sat around a campfire, eating s’mores and laughing as they shared stories, and Roxas was able to tell himself that everything was okay.

Two years later, he and Pence each received their letters of acceptance to Cove Point University. As they celebrated the victory with family and friends, Roxas was filled with a surreal and bittersweet joy. Here he had undeniable proof that he was worthy of embarking on the path that he'd dreamed of all his life. But in spite of that (or perhaps because of it) he was left wondering if by living for the future he’d lost sight of the multitude of present moments that should have been worth remembering. He wondered privately if he’d just let the time pass him by as he worked tirelessly in the name of his ambitions. Because Hayner had been right—they wouldn’t be together forever.

After graduation, Roxas and Pence were set to move for school, while Hayner remained in Twilight Town, intent on working at his parents’ ranch for the foreseeable future. And Olette had plans to travel for a year before her first semester at Radiant Garden University. For the first time in a decade, the four of them would be leading separate lives.

Time moved with swift and unfeeling quickness. Before Roxas could find any clarity, he was on the road forward, heading to Destiny Islands with his heart full of unspoken feelings. He figured that in the direction he wanted to go, there was no room for looking back. 

* * *

Flying southwest on the Trans Alsace Highway 1, the silver Fox-Era Saleen Mustang sped away from the periwinkle dawn at dizzying speed. The world was barely awake when Pence and Roxas left Twilight Town to start a new journey.

* * *

Roxas was fully aware of the alluring distractions that existed in Destiny Islands as a routine way of life. Unlike the drowsy quaintness of Twilight Town where he grew up (a place that only chose to be well and truly alive in the months of ski season), the islands were a booming cosmic landscape that offered every attraction on this side of the world. Any desire within the realm of imagination could be found there in fully incarnate, tangible reality. The west coast peninsula had it all: golden sands and jewel blue waters, swaths of esoteric forests slumbering at the feet of the northern Boreal Mountains, and a cosmopolitan hub of bustling life in the heart of the valley. In that corner of the universe, all worldly pleasure prospered in an endless summer, languid and sanguine like Pinot Noir on the vine.

It was this awareness that prompted him and Pence to swear solemnly (on the dizzying bill of their tuition fees) that the summer festivities would be strictly confined to the weekends. Moving to the islands before their first semester at Cove Point University had been in the name of one goal: Get. A. _Job_. 

Pence, who had a full scholarship and whose parents were both dentists, didn’t exactly need one. Nonetheless, he was on board with the idea on account of his keen dedication to buffing out his resume. Roxas, who was also on a full scholarship but didn’t hail from a family of rich teeth doctors, definitely needed the cash and the experience. But most of all, he needed an anchor of routine that would keep him firmly grounded until September. Living on the islands at seventeen with working knowledge of the local music scene and no parental supervision was a combination that spelled out a disastrous summer of hangovers and bad decisions.

But the temptation to go absolutely buck wild lingered persistently and for good reason. Getting accepted into the school of their dreams was more than enough justified cause for liquor-fuelled celebration. But then there was leaving home with their hearts a total wreckage in the brutal aftermath of unrequited love. _That_ had at least forty reckless bottles worth of mileage.

Cruising on the endless highway, a toe over the line of the speed limit, Roxas kept his eyes on the road but snuck a quick glance at Pence, who was navigating the current road trip playlist with unreadable seriousness. All things considered, he was doing pretty well. In a deep, selfish part of Roxas, he was relieved. He felt that given the circumstances, he couldn’t really be Pence’s shoulder to cry on. In that regard, the two of them were well and truly cruising their separate ways in the no man’s land of grief.

Exactly a week ago, the end of year party at Hayner’s acreage had ended in a two-fold disaster. Fuelled by keg stands and the bittersweet goodbyes looming over the horizon, the senior graduates of Terrace Heights Academy acted on their every repressed impulse like it was the goddamn end of the world. And because he had decided to go with the reckless flow of the evening, Roxas eventually found himself taking deep breaths in one of the bathrooms, strategically preventing the impending black out about to lay siege on his body. 

In a desperate power move to hold on to reality, Roxas stuck a finger down his throat. Kneeling over the cold porcelain of the toilet bowl, he purged a near lethal amount of beer and tequila in a totally sobering moment of humility. A small voice in his head promised that the world would stop spinning out of control if he never touched another drop of liquor ever again.

_Deep breath in. And out._

He barely had enough time to flush the evidence and cleanse his palette with mouthwash when a flurry of petite brunette energy barged into the bathroom. Roxas squawked some form of indignant protest before realizing with relief that it was just Olette. He remembered thinking that if she was there to berate him on his drinking, he’d finally work up the courage to tell her to let him live.

But there was none of that. Instead, Roxas realized with dawning horror that she was dangerously close, with a glassy look in her pretty olive green eyes. It was a look that said a lot of things, none of which he wanted to acknowledge.

_Roxas, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you._

In the surreal shock of the moment, he was propelled into an out of body experience; he could almost tell himself that it wasn’t happening to him but to someone very, very far away who looked like him.

Olette stepped closer and the Roxas look-alike moved his hands mechanically around her slender waist. For a very brief, insane second, he’d contemplated kissing her, for no other reason than the compelling softness in her eyes, the petal pink of cupid’s bow lips, and beautiful chocolate hair that fell around delicate shoulders. The thought occurred to him that it would have been … nice. 

It was nice to be wanted. 

But then, like lightning grounding itself to a metal rod, Roxas fell firmly back down to earth. He had no choice but to seize control of his senses as a flash of clarity pierced through the fog of molten agave and hormonal indiscretion clouding his veins: he realized that a singular moment of comfort wouldn’t be worth pressing the self-destruct button on all the relationships in his life.

Gently, he had taken a step back with a sad smile.

_I’m sorry. There’s someone else._

She excused herself gracefully and Roxas was left feeling like a totally heartless piece of shit. Eventually (after a few angry knocks on the door) he had to stop hogging the bathroom and wandered out to the backyard in a daze. That was when he saw Pence and Olette beyond the crowd of people. Even as the two of them were ensconced in the relative privacy of the gazebo, the heavy atmosphere read painfully clear to him. He recalled all those instances when he'd caught Pence's lingering wistful looks whenever Olette walked into a room, brief glimpses into years and years worth of unsaid devotion. Roxas had never asked because he didn't need to. People from the outside might not have been able to tell, but through the thick lens of childhood friendship, it had always been transparent to him that Pence was in love with Olette.

Roxas held his breath as he watched the scene transpiring across the backyard. After a final hushed exchange, Olette drew Pence into a hug, then walked away with tears in her eyes, leaving him in a dejected stupor. She was then whisked off by her sparkly, perfumed cheerleading posse, presumably to the sanctuary of a different party. 

When the coast was clear, Roxas approached Pence, who remained petrified in the gazebo. Understandably, he was shell shocked. Any guy would be after getting rejected by the girl he’d loved almost all his life. Roxas stood beside Pence, hands in his pockets, the two of them wordlessly feeling out the tension and silent heartache. They exchanged a dispirited glance that conveyed a mutual feeling of “Man, _fuck_ this. This fucking _sucks_.” 

Hayner arrived with impeccable timing, diffusing the tension with an offer of a comically large joint. Pence, who had never smoked a day in his life, took four big hits like a champ, followed swiftly by a long swig of Jäger from Roxas’s flask, and then quietly declared that he was in the mood to play NBA 2K. Roxas agreed to join him, which was how they wound up glued to the living room TV, shooting virtual hoops in uncomfortable silence until the party dissolved around them at five in the morning. Which was just as well. When Roxas briefly caught sight of Hayner and Naminé talking in the kitchen, all knowing smiles and gentle touches, he found it easier to ignore the violent ache in his chest when he was busy trying to score threes.

The following afternoon, Olette had arrived at the apartment he shared with his mom, looking sleep deprived and deeply embarrassed. She had stumbled halfway through a heartfelt apology before Roxas, feeling horribly uncomfortable and confused, told her not to worry about it. 

Frightened by his own dismissive haste, he attempted to diffuse the awkwardness of the moment by drawing her into a brief hug. Obligingly, she stepped into his embrace, a hundred other words lost in their mutual pact of silence. He felt her nod stiffly against his shoulder, conveying a readiness to file away the incident in some deep sub-basement of things to be immediately forgotten.

During his and Pence’s last week in Twilight Town, there remained a silent agreement among all of them to ignore the unfortunate events of that weekend. It was only Hayner who seemed to have come out of the situation with his dignity intact, announcing the following day that he and Naminé were finally going steady.

_Fuck._

Roxas had been eager to say goodbye to home. Driving way out west at a dizzying 140 km/h, he felt like he couldn’t get to Destiny Islands fast enough. He ignored the stubborn internal voice whispering that he was just running away and it wasn’t fair. A more logical part of him argued that the real, true unfairness of it all would be getting into the school of his dreams, living on the west coast with one of his best friends, and having the audacity to _mope_ underneath the glorious sun. He knew Pence well enough to say that he probably felt the same.

So it was with relative optimism that the two of them said their goodbyes to friends and family before dawn, leaving to embark on the nine-hour drive heading southwest. As the sun began to rise, the long stretch of highway ascended into winding roads that cut through the Boreal Mountains. The change in scenery seemed to lighten the mood, and the two of them let themselves feel excited about the near future. With the way back home disappearing behind snowy peaks, it was easy to believe that they could see a path out of the woods.

“It’s great of your brother to let us stay at his place over the summer,” Pence shouted over the unruly blaring of the speakers. “So, real talk. Exactly _how_ big is Sora’s house? I’m only asking because I wanna know how cool I gotta play it.”

Then there was that issue.

Whenever Roxas brought up Sora in conversation, he focused on the essentials: he was an amazing competitive swimmer, he had two beautiful dogs, his hobbies consisted of Nintendo games and baking pastries, and he was the best person in the whole world, kind beyond measure and in possession of a golden sense of humour. Roxas almost never touched on the small, totally insignificant fact that his older half-brother was heir to the technological inZero empire. There was one time, however, when he let it slip that Sora lived right on the southern end of Starfall Drive. Pence had immediately rounded on him, looking at Roxas as if he’d grown an extra leg, and the cat was decidedly out of the bag. After swearing Pence to utmost secrecy, Roxas explained as much as a hypothetical non-disclosure agreement would allow, which he thought was more than fair. Given that Pence was a pretty stand up dude, he deserved to know what he was getting into. Which was that Sora, delightful person that he was, happened to be within the upper echelons of trust fund demographics in the west coast. 

It wasn't like he _enjoyed_ keeping secrets. But in a place as small as Twilight Town, gossip spread like wildfire and he had absolutely no desire to get on the town soapbox and explain his eccentric family dynamics to all and sundry. Especially when he understood very little about it himself.

Pushing the thought out of his mind, Roxas kept a straight face as he shifted gears, minding the sharp bends that hugged the cliffs.

“I think they have six bedrooms.”

“You _think_?”

“The last time I visited was almost a year ago,” Roxas sighed. “I was on the phone with Sora last week and he mentioned that their renovations are done. Who knows what the running total is now. I don’t really think it’s a big deal.”

He _wanted_ to believe that it wasn't a big deal, that there was so much more to his older brother than the absurd and mystifying wealth. The price tag on Sora’s dwellings was the most insignificant footnote in the story of his life and Roxas had always believed that in his heart. Anyone who met him immediately understood why he was Roxas’s favourite person in the whole world. And it was a well-known fact that Sora often ended up being the favourite person of most people who met him.

Sensing Roxas's growing unease, Pence shrugged and contented himself with letting the subject slide to the wayside. “If you say so,” he murmured obligingly. He knocked back the last dregs of his Paopu Fruit Zero. One more offensively yellow aluminum can joined the graveyard of empties on the floor. Roxas made a mental note to clean out the car before they pulled up to Sora’s house. 

“So I was talking to Zell about the warehouse he runs in the city,” Pence continued, switching gears on their topic of conversation. “He said that one of their guys on the Balamb Garden sound team ended up moving, so I volunteered to hook up their system for a show next weekend. I’m gonna keep my fingers crossed that I run into the guy who manages Sebastian & Flounder. Zell says they have an open spot for a sales associate, so ideally I can nab that as my summer gig.”

“I hope you get the job. How sweet would it be to get discounts on recording equipment,” Roxas threw him a cheeky grin.

It was no surprise that Pence had made quick work of securing himself some opportunities in Destiny Islands. He was a whiz with music tech and everybody knew it. In what started out as an inside joke between friends, he’d posted a video last year of him making a beat with his bedroom ceiling fan. Roxas remembered it very clearly because he’d been the one filming as Pence hooked up his wires and sensor pads to each of the fan blades. After flipping the switch, they watched as the fan spun and Pence stood on a chair and reached up with a middle finger to strike the sensor pads with each rotation, activating the kick drum and snare samples that he'd programmed into his harebrained contraption. As the fan spun faster and faster, the full open sound of the rhythm came to fruition, and Hayner had been reduced to tears of laughter on the floor while Roxas barely hung on to his own sanity. They'd posted the video to GummiSpace purely for the sake of a good chuckle. Then the views came rolling in overnight, a tidal wave of hearts and comments, and thus began Pence’s wild career as an underground online music personality. His video hits featured “Making Beats with a Sandwich,” and classics like “Chefin Tunes in My Best Friend’s Mustang.” Comedy aside, Pence was a genius in the realm where technology met music and there hadn't been a doubt in anyone's mind that he'd be accepted into Cove Point. 

“You gotta come to the warehouse with me.”

Roxas tried not to look too unenthused. Not that he had much experience with illegal raves (Twilight Town didn’t have much of those going on since Hayner’s older brother Zell moved to the islands), but he knew enough to be certain that his ideal weekend night didn’t consist of hours listening to moody, drawn out trance. But in the spirit of being a good friend, he figured that putting up with mercurial spacey tunes was the least he could do. 

“Who’s playing?”

“The headliner’s gonna be No.I,” Pence said with barely contained excitement and sparkly-eyed reverence. “You’ll love her. She’s ridiculously talented and underrated—for now at least. Mark my words, she'll be playing a boiler room set before the year is over. She spins nothing but deep cuts and fresh west coast future bass. The IDs on some of her sets are _crazy._ Like, I'm talking unreleased _deep_ , deep cuts. I get the feeling that every musician in the west coast game sends her songs to work with. I can't believe you haven't listened to her yet. Her sets are pure _energy_. Watching her always makes me wanna make more tunes. How ‘bout this—listen to this mix and then decide if you wanna go.”

Roxas nodded. 

“Throw it on.”

With a few deft taps on his phone, Pence soon had the whole car rumbling. Instantly recognizable samples swam through liquefied icons, stompy reimaginings of voodoo ray beats, fluid wobbling grooves, twinkling whistles contrasting against the bold rattle of brass horns, a symphony of balanced sound in the esoteric jungle of bass themes. Pure energy. The production and track selection was fresh and clean, the transitions executed with skillful poetry and context. It was a love letter to the distinct sound of the west coast.

_Number One? No one. Bad gal, she do bad things. Do you love me?_

Roxas felt adrenaline rushing in his veins as he pictured being at a show with this kind of energy.

“When did you say she was playing?”

Pence beamed from ear to ear.

“Next Saturday.”

Roxas grinned at him in the rearview mirror.

“We did say weekends are fine for wild behaviour.”

“ _T_ _otally_ fine.”

“I'm sold. Count me in,” Roxas laughed. “I’ll see if Sora’s also up for some fun.”

They had a few more hours until they arrived at Destiny Islands. For most of the way there, the speakers continued to blare the steady rhythm of kaleidoscopic bass. Every now and then, he and Pence would make eye contact in the rear view mirror in between conversations, and Roxas would tilt up the corner of his lips in the slightest smile, eyes unreadable. He wondered how he’d feel if instead of Pence, he was in the car with Naminé—what would he say? He hoped it wouldn’t be something banal like, “You’re really lucky. You both are.” He could do a lot better than that. Then he thought about how Pence must have felt and came up against a blank emotional wall.

As they carried on, talking about all of the things they were looking forward to amidst intermittent companionable silences and easy laughter, the whole world kept on spinning. It felt like things between the two of them hadn’t really changed and never really would, despite all of the unaddressed awkwardness sitting just beneath the surface. Everything was okay and Roxas felt right then that he could be happy. But there were some things that were impossible to ignore.

Years later, he would remember gazing at the towering landscape of hazy periwinkle mountains, thinking to himself that if he could put enough miles between him and the guy he loved, maybe shit wouldn’t hurt so bad anymore.

* * *

It was late in the afternoon when they finally arrived in Destiny Islands. 

Starfall Drive was a thirty-five kilometre stretch that hugged the edge of the western peninsula, connecting the central valley to Cove Point in the south. Curving around seaside cliffs like a smooth black ribbon, the famous road was a threshold into where the sky met the sea, a boundless mirror reflecting infinity. The sapphire waves of the west coast shimmered infinite and dazzling below the cliffs, conjuring a dizzying mirage of the land floating above the water. Flying in the old Saleen Mustang at breakneck speed, Roxas felt like he could grow wings and take off into the clouds.

Pence rolled down the windows, stretching out to lean into the endless view.

“ _Holy shit_ ,” he shouted into the billowing wind. "This is _amazing_.”

“I can’t believe you’ve never been here before,” Roxas laughed.

Leaning back in his seat, Pence swept a hand through his disheveled hair. 

“I can’t believe it either. It’s _essential_ to the Destiny Islands experience. But every time I come here with my parents, we always just take the boat out to stay at the condo in Haley Springs.”

“Next time we head downtown, you’ll have to take this drive.” Roxas smiled wide, invigorated by the ocean breeze. “There’s nothing else like it.”

“No kidding. You can’t get this shade of blue anywhere else ... it doesn't even seem _real_. It really does feel like the edge of the world.” Pence gave him a look of spellbound incredulity. “And we’re staying here for the next two months.”

“We’re not getting anything done,” Roxas groaned half-heartedly.

Pence shrugged. 

“There’s always next summer.”

“Hold up. Am I actually speaking to Pence Serrano right now? Because the Pence I grew up with would equate slacking off to ushering in the apocalypse.”

“What can I say? A view like this can change a person.”

“Can’t argue with you there.”

Roxas pushed the acceleration just a little bit more. The old silver Mustang responded eagerly, pulling them forward with spirited momentum. It wasn’t long before they reached the southern tip of Starfall Drive, where the terracotta cliffs turned into verdant forests. Knowing the way by heart, Roxas brought the car into a smooth deceleration, shifting gears before he turned right into a shaded path that sloped down the cliffside.

The winding road eventually took them down to a long stretch of driveway, the looming voyage ahead obscured by dense foliage. With the proximity of the imposing landscape and the surrounding forest, that corner of the world seemed eerily quiet. As they slowly made their way through the woods, Pence couldn’t help but let out a nervous laugh.

“Does Sora live in one of those coastal gated communities where you pay astronomical homeowner association fees?”

Roxas gave him a reassuring glance.

“It’s nothing that cramped.”

The road curved sharply and they arrived at a point where the tree line funneled out and gave way to an outpouring of sunlight and a bright emerald green field.

Pence’s jaw dropped.

All the way across the expanse of perfectly manicured lawn sat a tall, sprawling mansion, its facade scorched white and vainly proud against a saturated backdrop of endless sand and waves. As they approached the lavish monstrosity, cruising on a driveway lined with regal cypress trees, their retinas were assaulted by blinding limestone and the harsh rays of island sun beaming off the professionally waxed glass of the floor to ceiling windows.

Stopping at the iron wrought gates, Roxas leaned out of his window to speak into the robotic indifference of an intercom.

“Hey, Aeleus. It’s me.”

A brief crackle of static. Then an unbelievably deep voice coming in clear.

“Welcome back, Roxas. I’ll let Sora know you’re here.”

There was a click and then the gates slid open, the iron disappearing into the folds of towering stone walls.

As Roxas inched the car forward past the entrance, he finally caught the look of stupefied disbelief on Pence’s face.

“How have we known each other our entire lives,” Pence began slowly, “without you ever mentioning once that your brother lives in a _castle_.”

“I ... didn't really know how to bring it up.” Roxas stubbornly kept his eyes straight ahead as he pulled into the circular driveway. “And you know how people talk back home. I don’t want anyone thinking all kinds of things about Sora just because he lives a different life.”

Pence sighed. 

“I get that. I’m just—well, obviously, I’m a bit surprised.”

Roxas looked a little sheepish.

“I’m sorry,” he said after a pause. “I … didn’t think it was a big deal. Really. But I should have told you sooner. I was probably thinking about it too much—about how it would come off. I was just worried.”

“That I’d get caught up in some wild assumptions about your family?”

A half-hearted shrug, followed by a soft murmur.

“Sora just means a lot to me.”

“I know. But c’mon, Roxas. I’m one of your best friends. Give me a little credit here.” Pence laughed when he saw the crease beginning to form on Roxas’s brow. “Hey, like I said. I’m just a little surprised. Like, micrograms worth of surprise. When you said Starfall Drive, there was a part of me bracing for something completely outrageous. I was imagining something dumb like Château de Chambord. So by comparison, this is kind of disappointing.”

Roxas laughed and he couldn't have been more grateful for Pence's sense of humour.

“You should tell Sora that. He’ll find it hilarious.”

After parking the car in the driveway, the two of them made their way up the stone steps, arriving at a wide set of ornate double doors. Roxas clasped the heavy brass handle, pushing the right-hand side open. Sunlight bounced off merrily from the colourful glass. Rays of kaleidoscopic sunbeams fluttered in the hot summer air. The perfectly tempered air conditioned breeze beat back against the sweltering humidity of the outdoors and it was like stepping into a cool myopic dream.

“Sora, we’re here!”

Roxas’s voice was swallowed whole by the cavernous anteroom, disappearing into the bowels of endless hallways leading into other parts of that strange world. As they entered the foyer, pearly marble glimmered cheerfully underneath their worn out sneakers. Various works of art and ornate furnishings decorated the space, everything drenched in gold sunlight pouring in from the towering iron wrought windows. It looked more like a museum rather than a place where people lived.

Dogs started barking and howling.

“ROXAS.”

In came the sound of bare feet pattering swiftly against the marble, accompanied by frenzied paws, until a tan blur came sweeping in from around a corner. Before Pence could blink, a flurry of movement swept past him, stirring up a breeze that smelled of grass and sun. The blurry shape collided with Roxas in a tight embrace and deep booming woofs came from all sides as two massive great danes began scampering around them. Pulling back from the intense bear hug, Sora held his younger brother at arm’s length, his smile brighter than the sun. His blue eyes were the vivid bottled glow of the summer tide and his presence radiated enough light to make the cavernous impersonal space feel like a home.

The similarities between Sora and Roxas were immediately noticeable despite the obvious differences. Whereas Roxas possessed the serene golden pallor of autumn and dark midnight blue eyes, Sora was all warmth, ocean eyes distinctly bright against sugar brown hair and tan skin. But the way they moved was exactly the same, a remarkable similarity in the heart-shaped face, the smile of the eyes and upbeat cadence of speech.

Sora beamed fit to rival the sun, excitement brimming over and infectious.

“Man, am I glad you’re finally here! You guys made insanely good time.”

Pence grinned as he tried to distribute equal amounts of petting between the two exuberant dogs.

“If it weren’t for Roxas going twenty over the limit, we’d have gotten here at midnight.”

Roxas scowled and muttered darkly, “Must be nice riding shotgun for nine hours.”

“ _Roxas_ ,” Sora chided. “We had a talk about safe driving—and the speeding tickets you have to pay off.”

Groaning, Roxas batted his brother away.

“Can we not do this right now?”

“Oh, yeah of course. Silly me, I’m being a terrible host,” Sora laughed. He pivoted on his heel and extended a hand towards Pence. “You probably know this already, but I’m Sora, Roxas’s much better looking, _definitely_ taller older brother. It’s nice to finally meet you, Pence! Roxas talks about you _all the time_ , it feels like I already know you. By the way, I follow you on GummiSpace. You gotta tell me how you made a song with a PB&J. That shit is _crazy_.”

Pence shook his hand, stifling a laugh as he ignored Roxas’s look of horrified indignation.

“The pleasure’s all mine. I’ve also heard a lot about you.”

 _Except for the fact that you live like a_ **_prince_** _,_ _because I guess your brother likes keeping secrets._

Roxas forced a smile.

“I’m so glad that you two finally get to meet each other.”

_Not a word or you’re driving everywhere from now on._

_Then have fun living by the speed limit._

Oblivious to the telepathic passive aggression being thrown around, Sora gestured to the dogs, both of whom had moved onto leaping at Roxas.

“This one here is Donald,” he pointed to the smaller of the two, who was white with pointed ears. “And this one’s Goofy!” The floppy-eared black dog had an adorable dopey smile as he drooled all over Roxas’s pant leg. “Boys, meet Pence! Can you tell they’re excited to have more people around? They’ll be happy to go back to playing fetch again. I’ve been trying to teach them how to play the drums but I think the concept of rhythm is a little too abstract.”

Pence perked up.

“You have a drum set?”

“Heck yeah! We’ll definitely check it out during the grand tour.” Gesturing for the two of them to follow him past the foyer, Sora talked animatedly, waving his hands around. “You left the keys in the car, Rox?”

“Yep.”

“Cool. Aeleus will come get your bags and park the car in the garage, so you don’t have to worry about hauling your stuff inside. Hmm, where to start, where to start? Ah, I know! Wanna see the kitchen? Dad had the contractors put in new countertops and appliances. With the magic of double ovens, I can bake pizza _and_ cake at the same time. I hope you like cheesecake, Pence. I’ve been trying out this new recipe with fresh cherries and sage and I could really use some taste testing feedback.”

The tour of the entire place took almost an hour and a half. After the sixth bedroom, gaming lounge, music room, and home theatre, Pence managed to pick his jaw up from off the floor for long enough to ask a question.

“Is there, like … a reason to go outside when you’re here?”

“Of course there is!” Sora laughed. “Outside is the _best_ part. Aerith and I started a garden in April. I am _so_ excited. We’re gonna have fresh herbs and vegetables!. And yes, Rox, that means you're actually going to be eating salad.”

"Are you threatening me with a good time? I _like_ the way you make salad," Roxas teased.

Stepping outdoors through a set of glass double doors, they made their way across a romantic botanical terrace. Going down the brickwork steps, they arrived on a rock path that led into the vivid dreaminess of the flower and crop garden. As Sora walked them through his assortment of baby vegetables like a proud cottage-dwelling father, Pence nudged Roxas delicately.

“Does Paopu Fruit Zero contain any psychoactive chemicals?” he muttered under his breath. “Because I feel like we’ve gone down the rabbit hole into Wonderland.”

“Each can contains a near lethal dose of taurine. Oh and I’m pretty sure that having seven in a day makes you legally insane.”

“That’s an urban legend. Besides, I’ve only had six.” Pence watched as Sora knelt in the grass to wax poetic about the bloom of his bell pepper flowers. “If this tour concludes in a padded cell, you’d tell me, right?”

“It’s not _that_ bad.”

“I’m willing to bet that I could buy a masters degree with one of the living room vases.”

“Well if you’re gonna pawn one off, make sure it’s the one with the painted centaurs.”

“That one’s hideous.”

“So naturally it’s the most expensive.”

Sensing that he’d lost his audience somewhere along his ode to purple carrots, Sora doubled back. Turning to Roxas and Pence, he put his hands on his hips and gave them a thoughtful look. 

“Sorry, gang. I’ve been talking your ear off about horticultural nonsense when you’ve just spent a whole day on the road. You guys must be hungry. How does pizza sound for dinner?”

“Amazing.”

“Would _love_ that.”

Sora clapped his hands together. 

“Excellent! Now, normally I’d be host of the year and make the pizza myself, _buuut_ ,” he crossed his arms behind his head, canting his hips in a lackadaisical fashion, “I’m feeling kinda lazy and Pizza Planet is fifteen minutes away.”

Roxas nodded eagerly, a distinctly feral glint in his eyes.

“Can we get a large cheeseburger pizza?”

“While I might not agree with your preference, yes. We’ll get it because I love you. Don’t give me that look, Rox. Ketchup on pizza is a sin. Pence, what would you like?”

“Uh … pepperoni?”

Sora gave the two of them a look of disbelief.

“You _both_ like cheeseburger pizza? Unbelievable. Well, alright. We’ll get two. And a pepperoni for those of us who have reasonable taste buds.” Pulling out his phone to dial for delivery, Sora led the way through the garden, Pence, Roxas, and the dogs following suit. 

“I think we should eat in the pool gazebo. Does that sound okay? That way we can watch the sunset on the beach! It’s the best view in the world.”

* * *

When he checked out of the Hundred Acres Centre a few days ago, Axel had every intention of melting into the background of the world as a blissfully aimless vagabond on the road. He’d thought about buying a cheap car or getting a plane ticket, but he hadn’t been in any real rush to get out of Traverse Town. There was something about the fanciful bric-à-brac shops and tacky optimism of mismatched architecture that drew in his curiosity. 

Prior to his venture into sobriety, when he was still jetsetting all over the world in a whirlwind of facetious glamour, he hadn’t known about the rinky dink provincial town, wouldn’t have been able to point it out on a map. In comparison to the roaring bustle and bright lights of Midgar, Radiant Garden, and Zanarkand, Traverse Town possessed very little in the way of flashy distractions and jaded vices. The most exciting things that could be found there were the bed and breakfast style inn that served as the hub of the 1st district and the dusty circus themed arcade in the fifth district. As far as places to explore in his newly minted state of sobriety, it was a pretty safe bet.

He’d checked into one of the chain motels and had taken to exploring the kooky haunts within walking distance. On his third day of aimless wandering, he received a call from Demyx. There were very few people he’d kept in touch with over the past year and the musician was one of them. Axel was sitting outside a cafe when his phone began to buzz on the iron garden table. Setting down his copy of the newspaper, he picked up to answer.

“Yo.”

“How’s life back in the outside world?”

Axel picked up his cup of black coffee and watched as the last few ounces swirled in the creamy porcelain.

“I almost forgot what good coffee tastes like,” he began, idly examining the assortment of chrome and gold rings glittering against his knuckles in the sunlight. “Luckily, Traverse Town seems to have an appreciation for the art of pour overs.”

“It’s always those hole-in-the-wall type places that sling the best beans. Are you thinking of posting up there for the long haul?”

“Dem, there isn’t anything on this earth that can keep me in one place. Not even the rare occurrence of good coffee. But before I do go, I think I gotta hunt down a souvenir keychain with my name on it. You know the ones—you can always find Andrew or Jessica, but never your own. If there’s anywhere that would have one of those with my name on it, I think this is it.”

“Well, best of luck. So ... if you _don’t_ have any pressing plans,” Demyx’s half-cocked brazen smile was audible, “do you think you’ve got time to pick up my car from the shop over there?”

Axel let out a long, dramatic sigh.

“I should have known you weren’t calling just to shoot the shit.”

“Oh, c’mon. Don’t be like that. I’m asking you to drive it _to_ me. So obviously we get to hang out, duh.”

“Notice that I haven’t agreed to anything.”

“It’s the McLaren F1.”

Axel set his mug down. Taking a joy ride in one of Demyx’s sports cars wasn’t exactly a tedious task and a free ticket out of town was a free ticket out of town. Perhaps it wasn’t a bad idea to start life out of rehab by trying to build up his good karma. 

“I guess you really do love me after all, if you trust me to get that thing to you in one piece.” He pulled his phone away from his ear to take a glance at the time. “Fine, I’ll bite. But please don’t tell me I have to drive all the way out to Radiant Garden. It’ll take the better part of a week to get there.”

“You're not gonna clock that kind of mileage on my whip. Do you really think my car would survive the potholes? No, I’m in Destiny Islands.”

“Okay, that’s doable.” Axel did the math in his head, accounting for time to check out of the motel and rest stops along the way. “I can be there in six hours.”

“Man, you are seriously the best! I owe you big time.”

Demyx owing him a favour wasn't exactly the worst thing in the world. Axel figured he could swing something truly outrageous down the line, like a trip on a private jet to Spira. Or a place to stay for the time being while he figured out his next step, suggested the practical voice of reason in his head.

“Don’t ever forget it. I guess I should pack my bags here pretty soon.” Stretching his legs out to reach the chair across the table, Axel flipped idly through the newspaper with purposeful intent. He landed on a particularly damning headline on page eight. 

“Did you see the news this morning?”

“Yes. Josie and the Pussycats are back for a reunion tour and tickets are selling out like _crazy_.”

“You know what I meant.” Axel kept his voice level, leaving no room for further shoddy guesswork. “‘Riku Saito Dropped from Witcher Film Project.’ That’s a load of bullshit.” He hadn’t spoken to Riku in years and their relationship (or lack thereof) was shaky at best. But Axel knew enough about his estranged friend’s astute professionalism and work ethic to know that the columns of print were nothing more than inflammatory gossip. 

“Do you know anything about this?”

Demyx was quiet for a moment.

“I’ve heard things here and there. You’re right, it’s totally whack. Shit makes no sense. I have no idea why they fired him like that.”

Axel suspected that he knew much more than he was letting on—Demyx had ways of getting all sorts of obscure information—but now wasn’t the time to pry. They would have all the time in the world to chat when Axel arrived on the west coast.

“I can’t even begin to tell you how glad I am to be out of the spotlight. Irrelevance is bliss,” he snorted.

“The media has a short attention span. Things have a way of dying down,” Demyx’s tone had an oddly knowing reassurance to it, despite the fact that he himself had yet to be dragged through the mud of public scandal. “Now that we're on this topic though ... I gotta tell you one last thing before you leave: a little bird told me that the man of the hour might be in your neck of the woods today. It might not be a bad idea to give him a call.”

Axel frowned.

“Right. Good to know. I’ll see you in a few hours, yeah?”

“No rush. Mind the speed limits.”

The phone call ended, allowing for an annoying realization. His day had started off marvelously free, without a single responsibility in sight. And with the flip of a switch, Axel now had a full fledged checklist of obligations he needed to fulfill. Obligations that he had willingly agreed to, so really, there was no point lamenting the loss of a lazy day.

Sighing, he drained the last few sips of his coffee and stood to leave, making sure to place a generous tip underneath the saucer before wandering off. As he made his way to the autobody shop on foot, Axel ran through all of the things that he needed to do before he left. His thoughts lingered on the interesting tidbit of information that Demyx had shared. The suggestion to give Riku a call hadn’t exactly been cryptic but Axel had enough reason to doubt if it was a good idea. After getting fired from the biggest film project currently in the works, it might have been safe to bet that Riku wasn't having the time of his life right about now. And Axel didn’t possess the exorbitant vanity necessary to believe that a phone call from him could somehow make things better. On the contrary, hearing from Axel out of the blue might have been the cherry on top of Riku's shit sundae of a day.

And yet his instincts advocated for reason. He couldn’t tell himself that Riku hated him without even trying to talk to the guy. What was the worst that could happen if he called? He’d ask Riku how he was doing and his ex-best friend would probably say something along the lines of “Fucking horrendendous, what do you think?” And Axel could probably muster up a clever reply of some sort, maybe even throw in, “Well, buddy. That’s rough. Welcome to the Celebrity Scandal Club. Now you know how I must have felt two years ago when I got dropped from a multi-million dollar contract. Happens to the best of us.”

He flinched a little and made a mental note to refrain from saying anything about that horrid incident. For one thing, their situations were entirely different—it was highly doubtful that Riku had shown up on set drunk and high out of his mind to cuss out the director and lighting technicians. And it wasn’t as if Axel cared all that much about his own excommunication from the industry to begin with. In a lot of ways (largely thanks to time and distance) he was deeply relieved that his life was his to live again. But Riku on the other hand … he had big dreams.

Axel arrived at the autobody shop and stated his business, pulling out his wallet to show ID. They were expecting him. Demyx called a few minutes prior to let them know who was picking up the vehicle. As he waited for the mechanics to pull out Demyx’s ridiculously sleek, lowkey and classic F1 (with brand new matte black paint job and a cherry red stripe on the side), Axel fumbled around with his phone, staring at Riku’s number.

_Deep breath in. And out._

He decided that the less he thought about it the better. Typing out a brief message, he didn’t stop to read over it before pressing send.

_Heard from a little bird that you might be in town._

He tucked away his phone and felt a vibration as soon as it was comfortably nestled in his back pocket.

“That was quick,” he muttered, tapping the screen to show the message.

_Looks like I’m here for the next 20 hours. All flights to Destiny Islands are cancelled._

His heart skipped a beat. The distress signal was loud and clear, a flare hovering precariously above stormy waters. He understood what would be the right thing to do and there was no need to think twice. Axel pressed the button to call and waited with bated breath.

“Axel?”

It occurred to him that outside of movies, he hadn’t heard Riku’s voice in a very long time.

“The one and only.” He hoped his smile was audible. “Stuck in Traverse Town, huh? As long as you’re here, you should try out the pretzel place in the first district. Shit fucking slaps.”

“I would if I happened to, you know, have a spare paper bag to cover my face.”

“Ah, right. Big movie star in a small town—it’d be a feeding frenzy. Well I could grab one for you if you’re interested. Special delivery.” Axel interpreted the following drawn out silence as a no. “So … you need to get to Destiny Islands, yeah?”

“Yeah … I need to get there today. I can’t really stick around here. I might have to rent a car or something.”

Axel glanced at the slender curves of the F1.

“You got big suitcases with you?”

“Big wha—suitcases? No. I have a duffel bag.”

“Perfect. I think that’s all that can fit in the car.”

“Axel, what are you talking about?”

“Serendipity,” he said as if that should have been good enough explanation. “I’m driving down to the islands pretty soon here. And I got room for one more person.”

When he heard no response, not even the slightest hint of a breath over the line, Axel pressed a hand over his face and repressed a sigh. He remembered one very important thing about this guy who had once been his best friend: Riku possessed an almost dim-witted sense of pride, that if or when his entire leg suddenly found its way into a bear trap, he’d sooner hack off his own limb with a blunt rock than admit he needed help. So the only way Axel could see him taking this lifeline out of Traverse Town was if it was forced upon him like a straightjacket.

So Axel didn’t even present it as an option.

“Where are you right now?”

“I’m still at the airport.”

“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

So Axel picked up his estranged friend, wholly intent on living in the moment and fulfilling his list of good samaritan duties. Get Demyx’s car to Destiny Islands in one piece? Check. Get Riku back home safely? _Would_ have been a check, if not for the shit storm brewing in the near distance. But Axel didn’t know that yet.

Driving in the quaint suburbs of Cove Point, Axel had been chatting up a storm, oblivious to the fact that his decision to help out an old friend was about to extend its way well past the afternoon and into the foreseeable future.

He noticed that Riku had been sporting an increasingly constipated look as they drew closer and closer to his childhood home. So in the spirit of keeping up some semblance of good humour, he kept up the conversation, one-sided though it had been for the past five hours.

“Hey, Riku. Mind if I ask ya something?”

In the corner of his eye, he noticed Riku stiffen in the passenger seat before nodding mechanically.

Axel’s teeth seemed almost sharp when he flashed a cunning smile.

“Do you know,” he drawled slowly, “why the sun sets red?”

The moment that followed could have been described with a slideshow of exactly two pictures: one of a theatre filled with blacktie formal crickets followed by the exact moment the asteroid wiped out the dinosaurs.

Something inside Riku snapped. Somehow, Axel hadn’t pictured that breaking the ice after two years of silence would end up going down this way.

“Axel.”

Riku pulled down his comically large wrap-around designer sunglasses, revealing winter green eyes narrowed into very unimpressed slits. 

“Do you really think I’m in the mood for one of your dumb jokes right now? My life is spiralling down the toilet and I am _this_ close to hitting rock bottom. If you had _any_ idea what kind of hell I’ve been through—”

“ _Yeesh_ , princess. Not up for some fun science trivia, I see.” Axel rolled his eyes. “Well if you’d have humoured me a little, you’d be one fact smarter by now. Your loss,” he huffed. “And I’m not even going to pretend I know what that feels like, hitting rock bottom and all. Nope, not a fucking clue in the world what you could possibly be going through.”

The sour words came of their own volition, almost as if Axel had been holding them back on the tip of his tongue that whole time, like fists clenched tightly in resentment. He regretted it immediately because the last thing he wanted was to come off like he had some goddamn chip on his shoulder. Bitterness wasn’t a good look, especially if he wanted to convince Riku that he had changed. And maybe, if Axel was being brutally honest with himself, he would have been able to admit that this whole voyage into selflessness wasn’t entirely … selfless. Maybe he just wanted to prove to somebody that things were going to be different this time. And boy was he fucking it up real quick.

Before he could fumble his way through a clumsy apology, Riku beat him to the punch.

“Sorry … that didn’t come out right,” he whispered feebly.

Before the moment could slither pitifully into irredeemable awkwardness, Axel waved his hand around, as if to swat at the fly of Riku’s misplaced remorse.

“Don’t apologize. Forget about it. I should let sleeping chocobos lie,” he muttered flippantly. “But can you blame a guy for tryin’ to lighten up the mood here? You were looking ... constipated.”

Riku spluttered. 

“I _do not_ look constipated.”

“Not so much right now. But that might change when we pull up to your house.”

“What are you talking—”

Riku was saved from having to wonder for much longer. As they turned into the street, they saw looming close in the distance a physical manifestation of his fears: news vans and paparazzi crowded outside his childhood home, vultures circling. All the colour drained from his face.

Quick as a whip, Axel shifted gears and gunned the acceleration. The sports car responded with carnivorous eagerness, shooting past the siege like a flash of jet black ink. After driving at least a dozen streets away, Axel slowed down to the speed limit, and they drifted quietly along the picturesque neighbourhood, old boulevard elms sprinkling dappled sunlight into the car, a crystal rain of silent grief. 

Axel glanced nervously at Riku.

“Hey, buddy … it’s gonna be okay. We’ll figure something out.”

Riku leaned forward to hold his head between his hands, his sunglasses falling to the floor. He didn’t bother fighting back the tears that now poured freely for the first time in years. In a voice that made him sound like he was seventeen again, he whispered brokenly, “Where am I supposed to go?”

Axel knew then without a doubt that his heart still existed. Even after all the lost years of reckless selfishness and destructive vices, his youth circling the drain towards the fragmented demise of ego, he could still feel something. A distant ache, one that he wouldn’t exactly call love, but felt similar enough to remind him of who he was before his soul had grown so old and weary.

“You always have somewhere to go,” Axel sighed, keeping his eyes on the road ahead. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

A sob racked the line of Riku’s broad shoulders, a faultline gutting the earth. 

“Yeah,” his voice was a broken whisper. “I know.”

Axel drove around until they eventually arrived at the sprawling campus grounds of Cove Point University. They flew past historic brick buildings hidden behind the lattice of crawling ivy, avante garde glass and chrome structures of the future, trimmed hedges and winding golden pavement that cut through immaculate stretches of viridian lawns. That entire section of the southern peninsula carried the lofty ambition of molding antiquity into youthful promise.

He parked the car in a lot facing the beach, then turned off the engine. Once the rumbling of the machinery settled into sleep, Axel turned in his seat to really look at Riku for the first time that day. Even while lost in the heavy fog of sorrow, his otherworldly beauty thrummed with the steadiness of a beating heart. The recent years only served to refine his features even more—rounded boyish qualities fading steadily into angled cheekbones, the decisive line where an unsteady smile used to be, a sharpness in winter green eyes that felt like snowfall settling over childhood.

It was undeniable; Riku was beautiful in a way that could steal a person’s heart right out from under them. And yet somehow, even in his most outlandish states of debauchery, Axel never considered going there. There was always that sense of Riku being too perfect, too rigid, never a hair or a word out of place. And Axel wasn’t interested in perfect.

Now, seeing through the cracks in the facade, Axel felt at a loss. In a way, he’d always relied on Riku to be the one in control. That had always enabled him to do as he pleased, living as wildly and impulsively as he could, because Riku had always been there to reel him back down to earth. At least that had been the case back in the good old days. A small part of him tried to think about what Riku would say right now if their roles were reversed. Although, Axel didn’t have to search too deep in his mind to know the truth.

_Everything’s going to be okay. This isn’t the end … we’ll figure it out._

_That’s easy for you to say, isn’t it? Perfect Riku, always so wise. Fine then, tell me, since you seem to have all the answers. How do I dig myself out of this one?_

_Axel, that’s not fair._

_How NAIVE are you? When are you going to understand that NOTHING is fair?_

He took a deep breath. There was no point dwelling on his mistakes now. This wasn’t about him.

“Listen,” he began, as gently as possible. His right hand floated up to land softly on Riku’s shoulder, long fingers settling against solid warmth. When he didn’t pull away, Axel continued, “I’m gonna need to drop this car off at Demyx’s some time today so … maybe we could stay with him a while, yeah? I’m sure he won’t mind. He’d be happy to see you.”

Riku shook his head.

“I can’t. Cameras follow him everywhere, too. I don’t … I don’t want Demyx to be seen with me right now. I don’t want to cause any trouble for him.”

Axel frowned.

“Well … we could go find a hotel. We can drive as far as we need to. Y’know Demyx has a five-car garage? He’d barely miss this one if we borrowed it for a couple of days.”

Riku shook his head again, this time more vigorously.

“ _No_.” His knuckles turned white from where he was gripping the edge of his seat. “I don’t want to keep running. This is supposed to be my home. They can’t take that from me, too.”

Sighing, Axel slouched into his seat and cast a distant look into the horizon. Watching as the sun hovered closely over the surface of the ocean, he hoped that for once in his life, he was actually doing the right thing.

“Well … wherever you decide to go, I’ll help you get there,” he muttered, feeling sheepish as he said it. The words of support were clumsy, like an ill-fitting pair of shoes. But Axel kept on trying, kept on talking as he had been for the past few hours, hoping that Riku wouldn’t think he was just blowing smoke. For once in his life, he wanted to be as good as his word. “You’re not alone, y’know? It might feel like it right now … but you’ve got people who are ready to help. We’ll figure it out.”

“Thanks, Axel. For being here … for helping me.”

“Ah, don’t mention it. I’m just … happy to be of service. And all that jazz.”

They seemed to sit in the car for a small eternity, watching as the clouds floated across the twilight sky, the evening periwinkle blues sweeping in gently from the east. In that companionable silence, Axel thought about all of the twilights he’d chased and all of the ones he had yet to find. And he was glad that he’d driven all the way to Destiny Islands today to see this one.

“I know where to go.”

Axel sat up upon hearing Riku’s quiet revelation.

“Where to?”

“Back to the suburbs,” Riku said, his face somber. “I have an old friend I need to see.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pence is 100% based on the wonderful, out-of-this-world hilarious, and mega-talented Shawn Wasabi, one of the genius inventors behind the Midi Fighter 64 and producer of THAT Animal Crossing song. Check out his [instagram](https://www.instagram.com/shawnwasabi/?hl=en) for top notch laughs. Boy really did make a beat with a ceiling fan.
> 
> Stay tuned for the next update, coming on September 3! (Holy shit, August is almost over ...)


	4. Drive-In Movie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me almost six months writing and rewriting the previous chapters before finally arriving at this one (I have five different versions of chapter one and they are all wildly different from each other). But man, it was worth it alone just to get to this point.
> 
> This one goes out to my closest friends. We were strangers once. But then came the awkward school project, the six-hour cafe conversation, and that one time we hopped into a random lady's car to help give her directions. Now it's hard to believe that there was ever a time when I didn't know you.
> 
> (This chapter contains alcohol and recreational drug use).

Roxas and Sora lounged back on the patio couch, watching as the sunset cast playful shades of violet and orange across the sky. Staring out at the rippling ocean waves from the pool gazebo, they sighed contentedly, half empty pizza boxes strewn across the glass table in front of them. The dogs lay sleepily by their feet, lulled into rest by the sound of water caressing the shoreline. Pence had gone back inside to take a call from his parents, which left Roxas and Sora alone with each other for the first time that day. After a good stretch of companionable silence, Sora lifted his hands behind his head and nudged Roxas’s leg with his knee. 

His older brother's smile was brighter than the sun and Roxas felt completely at ease.

“Have I told you how much I’ve missed you?”

Roxas couldn’t help grinning as he nudged Sora back. 

“You say that now. Are you sure you’ll feel the same after a whole summer of living with me? And also … your dad is totally cool with me and Pence staying here, right?”

It was a conversation that they’d had before but now, especially on his first day away from home, Roxas needed to hear the words of reassurance. 

Sora’s smile never left his face.

“Are you kidding? It’s _always_ been my dream to live with you and you know that!” he laughed, the sound bright like summer bells. “And dad is absolutely cool with you staying here! He’ll be in Radiant Garden for a while, you know, busy handling stuff at the central office. But he says you guys are welcome to stay here anytime and he also told me to pass on congratulations for getting a full scholarship! He was really impressed when I told him. Y’know there was never a doubt in my mind that you’d get into Cove Point. Your audition tape alone guaranteed your spot.”

Roxas felt his cheeks turning pink. Of the people in his life, he’d only shown his audition recording to Sora and their mom. Yet for some reason it still made him feel oddly vulnerable.

“You know, part of me still can’t believe it’s actually happening,” he laughed nervously. “It felt like a lifetime ago when I first told you about wanting to apply to Cove Point.”

“Yeah, I remember! It was right after Tidus released his first album.”

Tidus was Cove Point University’s most celebrated graduate and lauded as one of the best songwriters of their generation. Roxas had lost count of how many hours of his life he’d spent listening to Tidus’s music. In the early years of his adolescence, Roxas had heard the first few piano chords from his album _Memorial_ and it had thrown him immediately into an experience of all-consuming love. He could recall distinctly thinking: damn, if I could just write like _that_.

After listening to _Memorial_ for the first time, Roxas had called Sora in the middle of the night, swept up in his own delirious passion, filled with a sense of the whole world finally shifting into focus.

_Sora, I know how I’m going to be a musician. I’m going to do it exactly like Tidus. He lived in a small town just like me, right? And he worked really hard to get into Cove Point. I can do that. I’m going to work as hard as I can … and that means … that means I’ll be closer to you, too! If I study and practice really hard, I can get scholarships—I already looked it up! It’s totally possible, Sora. i feel like … this is actually what I’m meant to do._

_I believe in you, Roxas. If anyone has what it takes, it’s you. I'll be here to support you no matter what._

Roxas felt warmth rising in his chest as he thought back on that night.

“Those years really flew by, huh? It kind of feels like it was all a dream.”

“Well, I’m here to tell you that you’re not dreaming,” Sora laughed. “You _did it_ , Rox. And you know what else? We get a WHOLE SUMMER together, finally! There are so many things we gotta do before school starts. We can go on a full hike through the Spirit Forest and then have lunch at the mountain teahouse. And I can take you to the skate park by the pier and you can finally teach me how to do a 360 heelflip! We can also go surfing and camping on Brightcrest Island! Did you know there’s a new kangaroo sanctuary in Aurora Valley? We _definitely_ gotta go—there are capybaras there, Roxas. _Capybaras_. It’s gonna be the best. Summer. Ever.”

At that, Sora fell back onto the couch in a full sprawl, his legs somehow worming their way into Roxas’s lap.

“That does sound fun,” Roxas shifted to accommodate Sora’s surprisingly heavy calves, “but is Squall really going to let you play hooky all summer? Aren’t you training to compete in Athens this year?”

Sora blew a raspberry.

“ _Ugh_ , don’t remind me. Training has been such a drag, I feel like it’s all I’ve been doing. Leon has to give me a break, especially now that you’re here.” He frowned as severely as he could but the expression softened immediately on his features. “At the very least he’s gotta let me take care of the garden as much as possible. The greens need a very specific loving touch.”

“We’ll definitely get up to some fun before September comes around,” Roxas reassured him, his smile glib and lopsided as the wind swept golden locks over his eyes. “Speaking of Squall … where is he? Is Aerith not around either?”

Leon and Aerith were Sora’s steadfast guardians and both ran a pretty tight ship where Sora’s schooling and extracurriculars were concerned. Roxas had already kind of resigned himself to losing precious brotherly bonding time to the abyss of responsibilities that were always meticulously planned into Sora’s schedule.

“They’re both in Radiant Garden for a while,” Sora winked at him, his blue eyes filled with mischief. “And I’ll tell you what. I don’t plan on being a saint while they’re gone.”

Roxas threw him an identical grin of pure devious intent.

“I like where your head’s at. If there’s mischief, you know I'm there.”

“I’m glad we’re on the same page,” Sora grinned, nudging Roxas with his foot. He was batted away playfully. “Speaking of mischief … I know you’re probably tired from the long drive, but Kairi’s throwing a party at her house tonight and you guys should definitely come! Everybody from Cove Point is going to be there.” Sora wagged his eyebrows in a way that made Roxas deeply uncomfortable. “Tons of people from school. Some local musicians. Agents and managers. Girls _and_ boys—”

“Yeah, Kairi’s popular. I think I get it,” Roxas wormed his way out from under Sora’s legs. “Could you not talk so loud? Pence might get back any minute.”

Sora sat up, brows furrowing immediately.

“Wait a minute. So he doesn’t know—”

“Nope. And I dunno if now is the right time, Sora.”

That elicited a brief frown. Roxas felt immediate remorse and fought the sudden rise of panic in his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, seeking to place Sora’s legs back in his lap. His brother quietly acquiesced, ocean blue eyes wary. “I’ll tell him eventually, okay? I promise. I just … I dunno if today is the day.”

“Okay, Rox. I understand.” Sora crossed his arms and shrugged. Judging by the lingering concern in his brother’s eyes, Roxas knew he was in for a lengthy talking to later on. But in the moment, Sora seemed willing to let the issue go and continued where they left off.

“Well, like I was saying, if you and Pence are tired, you guys can definitely stay here. But I’ll probably pop by to say hi to Kairi and some other friends—”

“We’ll come along,” Roxas interjected. If his voice pitched slightly higher out of misplaced guilt, then he really hoped that Sora would have mercy and pretend not to notice. He knew his brother was too polite to ever say anything but Roxas knew that Sora would be a little disappointed if he bailed on any social function. And it wasn't like Roxas had any interest twiddling his thumbs in the mansion while he waited around for Sora to get back.

“Come along where?”

Pence reappeared in the gazebo, throwing them a quizzical look from behind the couch.

“To Kairi’s house party. It’s our first night here, so it’d be nice to go out and do something fun,” Roxas gave him a wide smile.

_Please just say yes._

“Sounds rad. I’m down.”

_Sure, I didn’t plan on sleeping tonight anyway._

“It’ll be nice to see Kairi again. You’re really gonna like her, Pence. She’s cool.”

 _I swear it’ll be fun. Girls, Pence._ **_Girls_ ** _._

“Yeah, Kairi’s the coolest! She’s one of my best friends,” Sora jumped in. When his sweet angelic smile turned impish and diabolical, it had the jarring effect of tonal whiplash. “She’s _so_ cool that Roxas was in love with her when he was eight—”

Roxas let out a war cry as he leaped across the couch to pinch Sora’s cheeks.

“ _W_ _hy_ would you say something so embarrassing?! That was a long time ago! What are you, _twelve_?!” 

“OW—Rokshush yer _hurding_ me. Pensh, _help_ , heesh bein a munshter.”

“Man, this Kairi girl must be something if you’re both so worked up over her.”

Sora slapped Roxas’s hands away.

“ _I’m_ not the one who’s worked up. My little brother however—”

“I’m about to become an only child.”

* * *

“Kairi, I finally get to put a face to the name. Riku’s told me so much about you,” Axel smiled, taking a seat on the plush mattress in her bedroom. “Though I’d hoped we'd meet under different circumstances.”

“I could say the same.”

The pretty girl standing in front of him cast a forlorn glance at her bathroom door, which was decidedly locked and looking like it would remain so for the foreseeable future. Kairi sighed and sat on the bed next to him.

“Everything was going so well,” she whispered carefully. “It’s been years since I last saw Riku … when you guys showed up, I was just so _happy_. You probably know this already, but we grew up together.” Her violet eyes spoke of untold grief and years of unbearable silence. “Riku’s the closest thing I have to an older brother. Having him back here means the world to me, Axel. Especially after such horrible news.”

Kairi extended her hand to lay on top of his, watery emotion threatening to spill over in her voice. Axel thought to himself that this day was the textbook definition of masochism. But in the spirit of this new thing he was trying called “being a better person,” he decided that he might as well commit to this bizarre reality until the clock struck midnight. It looked like he was going to be here a while.

Taking Kairi’s hand in what he hoped was a comforting gesture, Axel offered her a kind smile.

“I think he might just need some space before he’s ready to talk.”

“Well, yes. But the thing is …” she started to look a little nervous. “We _were_ talking earlier and things were going just fine. Then I mentioned that I’m having a party tonight and that Sora would be here and he ran to shut himself in there—”

“You said _what_ now?”

Kairi was taken aback.

“I told him that I’m having a party and Sora would be here—”

“ _W_ _hy_ would you do that?” Axel hissed. “Riku’s probably in the middle of drowning himself in there.”

Being Riku’s best friend for all those years meant that Axel had been privy to more than a couple of secrets along the way and the name “Sora” sent all kinds of alarms ringing in his head. So in his panicked haste he had no time to think of his words before he said them. But that definitely hadn’t been the right thing to say.

“ _Excuse_ me, mister.” 

Kairi shot up from her seat, standing to tower over him. Or at least attempt to, seeing as Axel was about as tall as a small tree even sitting down. Nonetheless, she succeeded in the desired effect, intimidation levels punching through the roof as she jabbed a finger into Axel’s chest, the flair of hellfire in her eyes.

“I was just trying _to talk_ to my friend and let him know what tonight’s situation was going to be.” She enunciated every word with a painful jab to his sternum. “I wasn’t _trying_ to give him a panic attack. And if you haven’t clued in just yet, I _said_ that I’m having a party tonight.”

“Well, thanks for the invite but I’m not really interested—”

“That _means_ ,” Kairi sighed, a vein pulsing visibly underneath her cute star shaped hair clips, “that people are going to be here _any minute now_. People who might recognize Riku’s face from his amazing movies and also, oh I dunno, _today’s gossip columns_.”

“If I promise to get him out of here will you please stop stabbing me with your wonderfully manicured fingernail? It’s starting to hurt my feelings.”

“I’m not telling you to get him out of here!” Kairi heaved, exasperated. “Just, _ugh_ —make sure he’s okay and _definitely_ keep him out of sight.” 

She turned to leave. Axel’s eyes flashed in a panic and he shot out of his seat to catch her by the wrist.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going? Do you really expect me to babysit—”

She rounded on him and he could have sworn he heard a lion’s roar. He dropped his grip and took a step back in the name of self-preservation.

“You are looking after Riku and making sure that nothing bad happens to him,” she growled, violet eyes foretelling the unspeakable consequences of his disobedience. “Now then, I’m going to assume the role of delightful host and get things ready for tonight. When I get back here later with a plate of food for Riku, things had better be calm. Or else.”

“Or else _what_?” Axel huffed, a little more feebly than he wanted to admit.

She glared at him.

“You don’t wanna know.”

With ominous finality, Kairi made her swift exit.

Axel suppressed the urge to repeatedly bang his head against a wall. He instead chose to pick up a stuffed Meow Wow™ and threw it on the floor. The dejected plush toy gave an underwhelming bounce as it rolled dejectedly on the carpet. When the bedroom door opened again, Axel hurriedly threw it back on the bed.

Kairi peaked her head inside and muttered begrudgingly, “I’m sorry. I was being rude. I should have asked you if you also wanted food.”

“Anything vegan is fine,” Axel grunted.

“That’s great,” Kairi huffed. “The catering will have spicy cauliflower.”

“That sounds …” Axel adjusted the Meow Wow™ so that it sat right side up. “Delicious. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

She closed the door behind her and Axel wondered why this was happening in his life. If he searched deep within his soul, there was a part of him ready to admit humbly that getting bossed around by short beautiful people _might_ have given him some sort of sick satisfaction. He cursed that part of him to hell and back, swearing up and down that the next person he’d bend over backwards for had to be of the tall variety (for the sake of his dignity or what was left of it).

Marching up to the bathroom door, Axel jangled the knob with more aggression than was necessary.

“ _Riku_ ,” he whisper-yelled through the wood panels. “If you’re drowning yourself in there, I swear to god, I _will_ give you mouth to mouth.”

It was an empty threat and they both knew it. Open mouthed contact might have propelled what was left of their relationship into a swift and gruesome death and neither had any desire for things to go down that way anyhow.

When silence was his only response, Axel began to worry that Riku had somehow wound up in a coma. Which wouldn’t end very well for him if Kairi came back to learn that he’d failed miserably at his duties. Somehow, the evening’s mission of dropping Riku off had turned into an ugly high stakes game where Axel’s life was suddenly on the line.

“Alright, you’re asking for it.”

He crossed the length of the room to search Kairi’s vanity, striking gold when he came across a hair pin. He made short work of the lock and pried the door open in a matter of minutes. When Axel crossed the threshold, he came upon a truly remarkable sight.

“Where the _fuck_ did you get the whiskey?!”

Riku mumbled incoherently from where he was nestled like a wounded bird in the clawfoot tub, the amber bottle cradled in his hands looking dangerously empty.

“Nothing matters anymore, Axel,” he slurred, face buried in the crook of his elbow. “Sora’s gonna think I’m a complete fuck up.”

Axel snatched the bottle away, ignoring Riku’s feeble protests as he dumped the rest of the contents down the toilet. He searched the medicine cabinets for pill bottles and was overwhelmingly relieved to find none.

Placing the now empty whiskey bottle on the marble countertop, he leaned his hip against the cool surface, giving Riku a pointed look.

“Listen, I don’t exactly get the whole deal between you and Sora. But you’ve told me enough and it’s clear that you’re obviously in a gay panic over your childhood friend—”

“You're really judging me right now? How dare you?”

Axel’s eyes couldn’t have rolled back further into his skull without detaching at the optic nerve.

“Riku, I dunno if you somehow lost three years worth of memories to the bottle, but here's a nice little reminder for ya: it is a well-known fact that I’ve fucked _everyone_ and I will wear that badge with flaming pride. And there isn’t an apology for it in sight, not in this lifetime or any lifetime hereafter. Sorry, baby, but your drunk accusation ain’t holding water.” He glared at the empty bottle sitting beside him. “Speaking of water, I should probably get you some. Otherwise you’re gonna wake up with a bitch of a hangover. You are not gonna be happy in the morning.”

“I can drink as much as I want to now,” Riku laughed, the sound teetering dangerously into the realm of the unhinged. “What do I need these abs for? This … this six pack of _misery_. I can eat and drink all the carbs in existence because _I’m never gonna act again_.”

“You might still get an Olympus Award for being the world’s biggest drama queen,” Axel muttered under his breath. “And you may wanna keep the abs. That might be the only redeeming thing about you by the time you’re projectile vomiting in twenty minutes.”

“You are so mean.”

“I am the MVP of your day, sweetie. And I am about to get you a nice cold drink of water. So you’re gonna do me a really sweet favour and _stay_ put. Don’t even think about finding more booze. Or else.”

“Or else _what_?”

“Or else your feisty little girlfriend is going to stuff me and hang my taxidermy corpse over her mantelpiece. So I’d appreciate you staying alive while I’m gone.”

“Fine.”

“Good boy.”

Axel marched out of the bathroom and was about to make his way out to find bottles of water (and possibly a whole loaf of bread) when it occurred to him that the tub probably wasn’t the most comfortable place to take a nap. He sighed, turning on his heel to wrestle pillows and blankets from the bed.

“Here,” he muttered, standing over Riku’s prone form, extending the armful of soft items in a gesture of peace. “This’ll help your neck.”

Riku begrudgingly accepted.

“Thanks … I’m sorry I called you mean.”

Axel shoved the Meow Wow™ into his arms.

“Apology accepted. And I’m sorry for all of the things we’re about to say to each other when all that liquor hits you in the dome in about three minutes.”

* * *

Kairi’s Cove Point mansion emitted a pale blue and golden glow at the end of the sprawling circular driveway where it sat, minimal lines of sandstone and glass cutting into the night sky. The lustre of young west coast society was out in full force, cars with mind boggling price tags sitting in polished rows leading up to the front steps, glimpses of dazzling bespoke jewelry and tailored silks shimmering in the night air. As Aeleus rolled the town car to a stop at the end of the driveway, Roxas watched as groups of people moved in and out of the lofty space with self-assured purpose and familiarity. It was a world wherein he felt like a complete nobody.

_Deep breath in. And out._

They barely made it through the front door before a loud chorus of voices erupted in greeting, more than a dozen pairs of eyes fixed on Sora.

“Sora! You made it!”

“Sora, you _have got_ to meet my cousin from Radiant Garden.”

“My man, it’s good to see you tonight! Now the real party’s about to start.”

It all happened in a hasty whirlwind of movement. Roxas and Pence remained virtually invisible as the throng of people swallowed Sora whole. The last thing Roxas caught was an apologetic look over the shoulder and he could barely make out his brother's hurried words.

“I just need to say hi to a few people then I’ll come find you guys, okay?”

“Well, there he goes,” Roxas muttered. “I guess we should try and find Kairi and let her know we’re here.”

He was saved from having to navigate the endless hallways when he spotted fiery red hair moving in his periphery.

“Kairi!” Roxas called out with a warm smile.

She turned her head and met his gaze, red locks fluttering around her shoulders in the most becoming way. Her smile upon seeing him could have been seen from across the bay. Kairi always had a way of shining brightest even in a sea of people. In a few quick steps, she made her way over to them as the partygoers made room for her to pass. Kairi soon found herself locked in a tight embrace with Roxas.

“Roxas! It’s _so_ good to see you again. I can’t even begin to tell you how excited I was when Sora told me you’d be coming.”

She pulled back and looked up at him, deep violet eyes shimmering underneath the chandelier lights sparkling overhead. Roxas had no idea how she did it, how Kairi spoke and made you feel like you were the only person in the room she really wanted to hear from. It filled his chest with a reassuring warmth as dozens of nameless faces moved around them, covert glances of aloof intent cast in their direction.

“I’m happy I could make it. It’s great to see you, too. Kairi, I want you to meet Pence, one of my best friends from Twilight Town. Pence, this is Kairi. I think Sora told you already, but we’ll be moving to the dorms together once the semester starts.”

She smiled, bright and welcoming. In a gesture of pure wholesome invitation, she stepped forward and squeezed Pence in a brief hug.

“It’s so lovely to finally meet you. Thanks for coming to my party! Any friend of Roxas’s is a friend of mine. We’ll all have to get together during the summer and do something fun.”

Pence’s soul left the building without so much as a fond farewell.

“ _Hnrgh frmph_.”

Roxas could practically see the error codes flashing over Pence’s head and decided that now was probably a good time to save the remaining shreds of his friend’s dignity. He coughed violently, eliciting looks of concern from people milling around them in the living room. Kairi raised an eyebrow.

“Do you need a glass of water?”

“ _Yes_ , a drink sounds great. Pence and I are gonna grab some from the kitchen. Can I get you anything?”

“I’ll be fine for now, thanks. I should go see what Sora’s up to. Gotta make sure he’s not trying to start another game of ultimate Jenga with the pool noodles. Meet me out by the dance floor later? We have _so much_ to catch up on.”

Roxas caught the knowing look in her eyes. He gave a curt nod before frog marching Pence to the kitchen bar.

“Real slick game.”

Pence scowled, his face the deep cherry red of self-loathing.

“Okay. So she’s really pretty.”

Roxas arrived at the fully stocked bar, keeping his face a mask of neutrality.

“You’re usually so good with words.”

“We can’t all be masters at talking to hot girls, Roxas.”

He stopped in the middle of pouring some bourbon over ice, levelling Pence with a bewildered look.

“Hey, man … I’m just teasing.”

Pence sighed. 

“Sorry. I’m just … what the hell did I even say? That was, without a doubt, the most _embarrassing_ moment of my life. I’m ready to walk into the sea. She probably thinks I’m the rudest person who’s ever lived.”

Roxas handed him the glass, accompanied by a look brimming with sympathy.

“She barely noticed. Kairi’s too busy running around making sure everyone’s having a good time. Besides, she’s really nice. Like, the _nicest_. She won’t think anything of it.”

“I really hope so,” Pence mumbled before taking a sip of his drink. And then promptly spit it back into the glass. “Roxas, what the _hell_? This is literal poison.”

“Relax, it’s just bourbon.”

Pence rolled his eyes.

“I’m grabbing a beer. You and Hayner and your ‘manly’ drinks. I swear, if he was here, you’d both be doing tequila shots to the tune of near alcohol poisoning.”

Roxas hid a grimace as he hesitantly lifted his own stiff drink to take a sip.

“Well, Hayner’s _not_ here. So there's no one to twist my arm into shotgunning beers. Besides,” his dark blue eyes darted across dozens of unfamiliar faces milling through the space, “you never know who we might meet. Can’t be acting a fool.”

Pence found a colourful can of craft blond ale from a nearby ice bucket.

“See anyone else you know?”

“Not really. I kind of recognize some of Kairi and Sora’s friends from school, but other than that, it’s mostly brand new faces.”

“Kairi knows _a lot_ of people.”

“No kidding. She’s the governor’s daughter. She probably knows everyone on the islands.”

“Yeah, that explains the unrealistically enormous house right in the middle of the university area.”

“And also the high profile guests,” Roxas said quietly. “Sora mentioned that some people here are musicians and agents. I’m not saying that we should start handing out mixtapes and taking over the turntables. But it wouldn’t be a bad idea to make some friends.”

Pence nodded.

“I hear ya.”

Roxas grinned.

“Let’s see if we can join the billiards game.”

Roxas liked parties. There was a breeziness that came as the liquor flowed, a lack of expectations. In that sea of strangers, he only had the scratch the surface of who he was:

_I’m attending Cove Point in the fall. Yup, first semester. I’m excited but nervous, y’know? What am I studying? Music._

_You like skiing? I think you’d love Twilight Town. The slopes there are beautiful during the season._

_Am I a musician? Sure, I sang at Kairi’s sixteenth birthday party. Does that count?_

Surface details. That was all he had to give with the easiest of smiles because not much was needed from him beyond that. For the most part, people didn’t seem too curious, didn’t ask too many prying questions. Roxas didn’t mind. It gave him an opportunity to listen and figure out who was who in that far flung world. The kids out here in their oversized designer button-ups and custom titanium jewelry found him easy enough to be around. The whole small town boy demeanour was endearing, quietly unintimidating; he was one less person to level with, one less trust fund legacy heir amongst a vast sea of competition. Roxas made sure to make each conversation as effortless as he could, choosing his words with care. And when he found himself coming up short, he was more than happy just to nod along and smile at every turn.

There existed a future in his mind where he walked into a space just like this and everybody knew his name. With one foot in the door of that ceaseless dream of ambition, Roxas conducted himself in the present moment as if everything he said and did would lead up to that reality.

It wasn’t a ruse, not exactly. Roxas was adept enough at making small talk with strangers that he enjoyed it for the most part. But he was also smart enough to refrain from walking into any of those glamorous rooms with a chip on his shoulder, knowing full well that he came from a world that was far humbler than this one. and to steer clear from the awkward no man’s land of trying too hard. He knew that for where he wanted to go, first impressions and a good reputation were worth their weight in gold and he had no idea who amongst that sea of people would be his connection into the music scene. He also knew that to a lot of these people, he was just a nobody. But that was something he planned on changing given time.

As the night progressed with lighthearted conversation fuelled by glasses of champagne, top shelf high balls, and cocktails with glittering pink salt and lavender buds, Roxas was starting to forget his initial promise to Pence to “take things easy.” He had definitely gone way past that by the time he’d unknowingly finished his seventh drink. But he possessed just enough lingering sense to establish a mantra for himself:

_Keep it cool. Self control. Don’t think about too much._

And he was doing pretty well. Up until he lost Pence in the crowd and ended up wandering into the open garage where people were smoking peach cigarillos and jeweled green in densely rolled blunts.

The combination of tree clouds and nicotine smoke, claustrophobic in its familiarity, triggered an instantaneous shock of memories: a brief eternity by the lakeshore, the intensity of the summer solstice, hazel eyes, a booming laugh that was brazen and coarse. The thoughts he’d been trying to escape finally caught up to him, headlights beaming fit to rob him of his vision, all sensation coming to a screeching halt.

He’d gone to his first party with Hayner. Back when they were fifteen and had about five copper coins worth of sense split between the two of them, they had embarked on the truly brainless mission of crashing one of Zell’s warehouse parties twenty minutes outside of town. They had barely been there for all of an hour before Zell kicked them out, but not before the two of them managed to swipe a 26 of vodka and some joints from a sketchy out of town plug (some tall lanky guy who could have passed for a theme park Captain Jack Sparrow, minus the dreads but amped up on the rum and vagabond hippie threads). 

Running across the neighbouring fields with their party scores in tow, Hayner and Roxas drank and smoked and belly laughed fit to rattle the night sky. They sat together in that intimate domain, underneath the generous shelter of a sprawling oak tree and felt like the kings of the world, funnier than all the rest, and knew for a fact that they were each other’s best friends and always would be. And on that night, Roxas understood without a doubt that this was the guy who had his heart.

Up until the present moment, he had been operating on the naive and willfully ignorant assumption that being away from home could somehow put some distance between him and his feelings. But apparently all it took to send him over the edge was a stiff glass of Hennessy and soju and the acrid smell of smoke. And all of a sudden he was contemplating pulling out his phone and making the insanely desperate move to call Hayner.

_What the hell would I even tell you right now? “Hey, I’m at this party and I’m probably supposed to be meeting girls and making new friends but all I can think about is how much better this would be if you were here with me instead.”_

That was about when his last three drinks punched straight to the dome with the force of a sledgehammer. Which was just as well, because it gave him something else to fixate on. In his cloudy state of mind, Roxas figured that his goal now was to find a way to get less drunk. Less drunk and less moody. If he wasn’t having fun then there was hardly a point in being here, surrounded by all of these people who were oblivious to his private heartbreak. He’d sort through his feelings later.

That was how he found himself in one of the house’s many bathrooms, the mint blue tiles and marble countertops grounding him to earth with cool sensation. But he wasn’t alone. He was accompanied by a really tall guy with piercing blue eyes who happened to be a chemical engineer and his quiet girlfriend with really cute glasses (regrettably, Roxas didn’t catch their names). The dude seemed nice enough, if a bit alarming, as he went off on wild philosophical tangents about hentai breast physics.

“So d’you hear the big news today?” 

The guy swung wildly towards an entirely different topic of conversation in the midst of rifling through his belt bag for their common goal of bathroom party favours.

Roxas shrugged and shook his head.

“Been on the road all day. What’s the scoop?”

“‘The Witcher’ movie might be getting scrapped,” the girl with the really cute glasses piped up.

“They _fired_ Riku Saito. Isn’t that crazy? He’s one of the best young actors in the game. His young Alucard was insanely nuanced. I wonder why they gave him the boot … guy must have turned out to be batshit or something. Bigshot actors, y’know?”

Roxas grimaced and steered clear from showing any sign of familiarity or skepticism.

“Yeah, I don’t really keep up with celebrity gossip.”

He handed Roxas a green gummy bear from a dime bag.

“Right, right. Fair enough. It’s all just fluff anyway. You’ve done this before, right?”

The guy gave him a rather fatherly look. Roxas thought back to the time when he and Hayner drank cold mushroom tea by the lake and laughed at cloud shapes for six hours. He imagined this would be fairly similar.

“Yeah, I know what to expect. This is less than a hundred micrograms? That’s manageable.”

“You got it. It's clean, too. Pure LSD. I know the PhD grads who fired it up in the university lab so you can rest easy knowing that it was a labour of love. Okay, but real talk for a sec. You’ve got friends here, right? There’s someone looking out for you?”

He might have been annoyed if not for the oddly sincere concern for his well-being, lacking any trace of condescension. Roxas smiled and nodded, feeling compelled to reassure this stranger that he was dead set on having a good time no matter what.

“Yeah, my friends are really great. I’m in good hands.”

The guy grinned, extending a friendly pat on Roxas’s shoulder.

“Then have a good trip, buddy.”

Roxas popped the innocent looking piece of candy into his mouth, tucking it underneath his tongue to dissolve. Later on that night, Roxas would remember feeling rather touched by that simple gesture, when that tall guy with the blue eyes wanted to make sure that he’d be okay. 

He wandered back into the party and the switch in atmosphere hit him immediately. Somewhere between his nicotine induced panic and self-prescribed lysergic acid distraction, the house had reached a collective consensus to go full send. Everybody was moving around sporadically, voices and bodies loud and audacious, the air filled with the heady smell of warm perfumed bodies and herbaceous gin.

Navigating the hallways vibrating with complex low ends and the rattle of drum and bass, he shifted through the raucous crowds in various rooms and eventually spotted Pence. He was standing by the stairs, holding a bottle of beer, surrounded by a group of girls sporting a variety of trendy haircuts and sparkling slip dresses. His friend was looking decidedly pleased with himself (and admittedly it was good to see). Roxas made his way over, breaking into the little group with a friendly smile.

Underneath the hush of bird-like fluttering comments about his hair and freckles, Roxas managed to get to Pence with relative ease. It was hard to miss the relief in his eyes.

“Where have you been? We’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

“Making friends in the bathroom line.” 

That sent a round of giggles through the group. Roxas was all smiles, joining them in laughter before leaning in close to Pence and mumbling, “I need you to do something for me.”

“If it has anything to do with doing more sake bombs, I’m afraid you’re on your own.”

“S’not that. I need you to hold onto my phone.”

Pence raised an eyebrow but complied when Roxas handed the device over.

“O- _kay_. Should I even ask?”

“I’ll explain later.”

“Hey, aren’t you the guy who sang for Kairi on her sixteenth birthday?”

The seemingly offhand observation triggered a cascade of other comments.

“Oh my gosh, Roxas. That _is_ you!”

“You’re so much taller now! Pence, you didn’t tell us you were friends with piano man over here.”

Roxas blushed and politely confirmed with a nod that, yes, that had been him. He’d been fourteen at the time, the most nervous he’d ever been in his life, playing “Tiny Dancer” on a baby grand piano as best as he could in front of a crowd of a hundred people. 

“Doesn’t Kairi have a baby grand piano upstairs?”

“You’re right, Elsie! Roxas, play something for us.”

Before he could even agree, the girls formed a line, holding hands, taking Pence and Roxas by the arms as they traipsed up the stairs to where the piano was on the second floor lounge. As he was ushered towards the beautiful black lacquered instrument, Roxas debated the pros and cons of being _that_ _guy_ at the party. The pros being that the girls would be delighted (he hoped). The big con however was that he’d definitely end up looking like a total jackass. But he wasn’t one to burst anyone’s bubble, especially not the girls, who were all looking at him with sweet and expectant faces. Pence, however, looked like he was about to start howling with laughter and that really did a lot for Roxas’s self-esteem just then.

_Keep it cool. Self control. Don’t think about too much._

Roxas decided that this probably wouldn’t be the first or last time he’d look like a drunk fool in front of a bunch of pretty girls anyway. So he basically went “Fuck it” and obligingly took a seat on the piano bench.

The gummy bear had completely dissolved in his mouth.

His fingers floated over the cool ivory. Deep breath in. And out. Reflexively, he began to play a familiar melody. Low-key, piano man in the smoking lounge, background noise. He thought of the song that he always played for his mom when he wanted to see her smile.

“Baby, baby, baby,” he sang softly. “What’s it gonna be? Baby, baby, baby. Is it him or is it me? Don’t make me waste my time. Don’t make me lose my mind. Baby, baby, baby. Can’t you stay with me tonight?”

When the girls began to dance around him, taking Pence along in their whirlwind of laughter, Roxas felt the rest of the world fall away. It was just them in that warm moment, swimming in sweetness and clouds of glittering champagne air. The rest of the party carried on around them, skirts catching the light, sequins on blazers twinkling almost audibly as they scattered chandelier rays across the room. 

In that moment of intimate softness, despite all of the distance he’d managed to put between himself and home, Roxas felt closer than ever to the unrequited feelings he’d hoped to put behind him.

* * *

When Kairi hadn’t shown up with food for the past couple of hours, Axel decided that it was time for him to take sustenance into his own hands. He figured he had damn well earned it after holding Riku’s hair back while he puked in the toilet three times and then making sure that the sweet darling prince was safely tucked back into his bathtub sanctuary. After making sure that he had left him enough water and blankets, Axel snuck out of Kairi’s room and hoped to god that he didn’t smell like vomit.

His concerns fell away when he stepped into the hallway and was immediately hit with the overwhelming aroma of various liquors and perfumed body heat. 

“Figures that I’m out of rehab for less then a week and I’ve already wound up at a rager,” he muttered humourlessly under his breath as he found his way downstairs to the kitchen. God must have smiled upon him at that moment because it didn’t take long before he found a plate of untouched spicy cauliflower next to bottles of chilled tonic water on the granite island. Perhaps his good deeds were paying off after all.

He ravenously inhaled the generously seasoned florets, chasing down the lively burning sensation with ample gulps of sharply bitter carbonated liquid. After polishing off the entire platter (completely impervious to the horrified stares around him), Axel found a mini quiche and some orange juice, figuring that the protein and vitamin C could probably go a long way towards nursing Riku back to life.

Making his way back upstairs with the goods, Axel staunchly refused to make eye contact with the people milling past him. He doubted that he’d run into someone he knew way out here on the west coast, or that anybody would recognize him after all these years, but he still had no interest in making idle small talk with some drunk university student.

Axel made it to the top of the stairs and was so delightfully close to being homefree when he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. An eerie sensation swept across his skin, as if a hundred spiders had spontaneously materialized out of thin air. The most primal of his survival instincts begged him not to turn around if he wanted to keep on living.

“My, my. Do my eyes deceive me? _Axel_ , is that you?”

He knew then without a doubt that the universe had yet to mete out the worst of his comeuppances.

Axel turned around, mouth fixed in a deep scowl.

“Larxene.”

“So hostile.” Beautiful deep green eyes were fixed on him, brimming with volatile electricity, fatal carnivorous intent. “Were you really just about to keep walking by? How heartless of you to try and ignore me.”

Larxene was a head shorter than Axel, a petite blonde dressed sharply in a figure-hugging black dress with a slit that ran up her left thigh. In her younger days, she had walked the runways of every major fashion house, in possession of a killer body and an innately cruel grace that inspired desire and envy in the hearts of many. She didn’t look so different now.

“After all these years, I thought you’d be happy to see me.” 

“I’m thrilled. Can’t you tell?”

Clearly he was done living life if he was mouthing off to his ex-girlfriend like this. If he wound up in the hospital with only a knife stuck in between his ribs, he would consider himself lucky.

Larxene shook her head, amused. She took a step closer to him, running a sharp black fingernail along the line of his jaw.

“It’s not nice to lie. Are you still upset about what happened? Come now, the past is the past. I’m more than willing to let bygones be bygones.”

“You can’t be serious,” Axel laughed caustically as he stepped away from her. “Larxene, you slept with Marluxia _seven_ times that I know of.”

“We were on a break, which was at your behest, might I add. And are we really going to gloss over the fact that _you_ ran off with a prince?” She shrugged, unmoved. “Not only that, but you ran off with him on a boat for three weeks and you came back _engaged_.”

Axel scoffed dismissively, as if running away with princes was a common indiscretion.

“Everyone knows that anything you do after the fifth champagne bottle barely counts as reality. And Phillip proposed with his ex’s engagement ring, so that counts for double the insignificance. Look, sweetheart. As much as I’d love to hash out our dumpster fire baggage in front of all these innocent bystanders, I really have to get going—”

“Hmm, odd choice of midnight snack there, my dear,” Larxene pointed deftly to the crumpled quiche in Axel’s tense clutches. “Demmy tells me that you’re vegan now. But I guess he was mistaken. He really should stop doing all that mescaline.”

“This is—they were out of vegan options,” Axel snapped. “It’s vegetarian. And Demyx doesn’t do _mescaline_. He drinks mushroom tea with oolong ginseng exclusively.”

“I’m happy to see the orange juice though. It looks like your commitment issues don’t extend to sobriety.”

“Well, as lovely as this has been,” Axel pushed his way past her, “I’m running late for my waterboarding appointment.”

“Would you relax?” she huffed, slipping delicate fingers around his wrist. When Axel whipped around to level her with a scorching glare, Larxene couldn’t help but laugh and give him a pat on the cheek. “Always so worked up. Seriously, Axel, you have nothing to worry about. I have no hard feelings. Quite frankly, if I had known you’d be here I would have had an olive branch prepared, a white flag even. But the sarcasm is the best I can do on such short notice.”

There had been a time when he’d found Larxene’s abrasive personality endearing and intolerably sexy. He hadn’t been so different from her back then. For almost a year, the two of them had gone back and forth in a vitriolic struggle that turned their relationship combative and tempestuous—but god _damn_ it had been a high unlike any other. 

They met when they were both twenty years old, in a time when both of them, despite being at the height of their careers, felt ruthlessly and completely alone. Within the solace they found in each other, hostile verbal jabs, violent makeup sex, and routine spitefulness functioned as a flimsy semblance of love. Back and forth it went for a turbulent year of high stakes, soap opera drama until Larxene had decided that enough was enough. She refused to spend the years of her youth chasing after someone who had no desire or ability to commit. Following her cold and sudden exit from his life, Axel took that as his cue to go on the wildest bender of his life. It was an episode that effectively wiped a month clean from his memories in a liquor and cocaine fuelled binge of deeply regrettable debauchery spent on the beaches of Spira. 

But they did care at one point, as best as they knew how in the ceaseless abyss of money and inconsequential glamour. So when Axel looked into her dark green eyes, he couldn’t help remembering the nights spent in open intimacy, countless moments retreating into each other, struggling to feel like they weren’t entirely alone in the world. She was the last relationship he had before shit really started going downhill. They had their differences, but he’d be lying if he said that she hadn’t tried to be there for him.

The past felt like a foreign world now, distant and unfamiliar. In the new light of the present, his anger dissolved, stinging words falling apart underneath his tongue.

“What are you doing here, Larxene?” he sighed, the mounting exhaustion of the day making its way into his voice. 

“I wasn't about to pass on an opportunity to meet the governor's daughter. I could ask the same of you. I thought the west coast sun was too hot for your liking.”

“I’m here on business.”

“Oh?” She seemed genuinely surprised. “After what happened two years ago with your last contract, I didn’t think you’d be so eager to … how did you put it? Ah, yes: ‘Sip once again from the poisoned chalice of money.’”

“It’s business of the personal variety. I don’t really have time to get into it right now,” he said with a dismissive sense of finality. Upon seeing the glimmer of suspicion in her eyes, Axel decided that maybe doling out some semblance of the truth might get her off his back. “I’m actually on my way to see Demyx. I just left Traverse Town this morning and I'm dropping off his car on my way out of here.”

“Traverse Town. What a quaint little place for the alcoholics and drug-addled souls of the world to find spiritual purchase. There’s not much trouble you can get up to when there’s fuck all to do. And there’s a lot of fuck all to go around in Traverse Town. Destiny Islands, on the other hand,” she raised her manicured fingernails to her chin, glimmering black nailpolish possessing a razor’s edge, “here you’ll find every temptation under the sun.”

“It almost sounds like you’re concerned for my well-being,” Axel responded evenly. “Truly, I’m touched. But you’ll be relieved to know that I don’t plan on sticking around.”

“Hmph, that’s a shame. I suppose you won’t be here for my wedding.”

“I _beg_ your pardon?”

She extended her left hand towards him. Axel almost lost an eye peering down at the absurdly large marquise diamond that glimmered boastfully on a white gold band. 

“Marluxia proposed a year ago. Can you even believe it.”

If Axel was the man he’d been when they were still together, his first instinct might have been to find Marluxia, that smug son of a bitch, and decorate his prissy face with some brass knuckle shiners. But now, all he felt was a surreal sense of distant shock.

“As much as I’d hate to give that human tampon any kind of credit, I’ll have to admit, he might not be as painfully stupid as I thought he was.”

“Why, Axel. I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

He rolled his eyes.

“Congratulations, I suppose.”

The words, though strained, felt sincere and even he was surprised with himself at how calmly he was taking the news. When he searched his heart, he couldn’t find a single trace of envy or anger and it was almost dreamlike, to the point of being unbelievable. He was tempted to chalk it up to the shock of the moment. But he also had a sneaking suspicion that he wouldn’t dwell on it beyond the confines of the present. Perhaps he really had grown up somewhat in the past few years.

It was then when he heard a familiar melody emanating softly from the opposite end of the lounge. Piano chords brought up memories of the midnight sky above the ocean, the constellation Libra, a moment of pure clarity guiding him back to himself. It was almost with a magnetic pull that he turned to look towards the piano across the room.

His vision swam for a millisecond, the air shifting underneath the tilted shimmer of chandelier lights. A wave of déjà vu, ghostly incandescent, passed through his body. The surreal sensation lasted for little more than a second.

Axel watched as a group of girls and a guy danced around the piano with each other, carefree and merry, swept up in champagne delight. Then the crowd parted for a moment, revealing a brief glimpse of the young man seated at the piano. A heartbreaking voice sang quietly, the lyrics barely making their way intact from across the room.

“Paint a perfect picture. Bring to life a vision in one’s mind. The beautiful ones always smash the picture. Always every time.”

“Oh, of course I remember,” Larxene murmured with a smile that was almost gentle. “This is your favourite song.”

“One of them,” Axel whispered.

It would have been annoying under most circumstances, hearing some idiot drunkenly attempt to perform such a classic, at a party no less. But as he watched the young man at the piano, Axel noticed the way he moved with practiced love, as if giving an unobtrusive smoking lounge performance. It was evident that he’d played this song countless times. Singing for the little group gathered around him, he barely seemed aware of the partygoers moving in and out of the space. A few people had stopped to listen, smiling and nodding along to the melody. Whoever this guy was, he sounded beautiful. More than beautiful.

His voice had Axel’s full attention, so much so that it had taken a few seconds for him to notice what the guy looked like. But when he did, Axel felt an intense warmth throughout his body that rendered him lightheaded and speechless. That stranger’s golden shimmer was reminiscent of the temperance of autumn, the colour of his eyes imperceptible in the distance, but they were dark and wholly absorbed within the melody, oblivious to the stares of the people around him. In that realm of high society, only the exceptionally beautiful and absurdly wealthy were afforded the luxury of being exempt from scrutiny. This guy was something else entirely.

_My god._

Axel made a concerted mental effort to ensure he wasn’t staring with his jaw on the floor.

“Who’s piano man?” he asked Larxene.

“You mean piano _boy_. He and his groupies are friends of Kairi’s. He’s caused quite the stir among the girls tonight. But I try not to bother myself with the trite stories of every doe-eyed ingénue who waltzes into town. Optimistic youth is so tiresome and boring.”

The cautionary air wasn’t lost on him. Axel tore his gaze away, face impassive. He made a mental note to forget about the bizarre moment at his earliest convenience.

“I really have to get going,” Axel sighed. “There’s a drunk guy in a bathroom who I’m supposed to be taking care of.” He gestured blithely to the quiche and orange juice he had in hand.

“My, you really have changed,” Larxene’s lips puckered in a facetious O-shape. “Not so long ago, you would have been the one passed out drunk over a toilet with his pants down. And now look at you, the very picture of a model citizen. Minus the tattoos, of course.” 

“ _Goodbye_ , Larxene.”

He caught her raspy laugh as he slipped away.

“Don’t take that to heart, my dear. The tattoos make you look dangerously sexy.”

* * *

Roxas wasn’t really sure how long he sat at the piano. He finished playing the first song, followed by a couple of others, and then eventually random tunes as he wound up lost in the melody, his thoughts carried along a rapidly flowing river. Eventually, he felt delicate feminine hands pulling him to his feet. The world spun a little. He felt like a ballerina in a music box and he might have said so out loud. There was laughter, so much laughter, without a single care in the world. 

His vision swam in glowing colour. There were vivid sensations, a collage of gossamer moments as he was led through the house. A glass rimmed with pink salt, sprigs of thyme floating on the surface, gin that tasted like bottled moonlight. The small hand that held his own in a gentle grip. Curious grey-blue eyes leaning in, a brief kiss on the lips. Air saturated with the cool essence of spring water, wild carnations reflecting across diamond facets. So much sparkling light, he felt like he was floating in a sea of stars.

He could dimly recall Pence saying something about going to lay down and take a nap. Roxas told him to go ahead. He’d find him later. The night was still young. He had every desire to follow the kaleidoscope of colour in his vision. Everything breathed vividly to the tune of music, harmonizing with all the discordant voices echoing into the high ceilings, pulsing fragments of geometric life. With outstretched hands, he savoured the heightened bliss that ran underneath his skin like warm honey. 

He smiled at everyone, laughed at everything, and he didn't care for a single moment if it was all too much. Fully stepping into himself for the first time that night, Roxas felt that he must have met a hundred different people. A montage of friendly faces, an echoing of voices that all levelled him with a startling question: _Who are you and why haven't we met before? Where have you been all my life?_

He found himself suddenly underneath the pale glow of the night sky, the sea breeze wrapped all around him as slender fingers threaded through his hair. Petal soft lips pressed up against his own and Roxas kissed back eagerly, the sensation of luminous summer air and desire coursing hot underneath his skin. He could have kissed her, whoever she was, for hours it seemed.

“Who _are_ you?” she laughed breathily as he placed a warm kiss on her neck. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around school. I definitely would have remembered you.”

Roxas pulled away slightly, leaning his forehead against hers. A flash of clarity compelled him to answer honestly.

“I’m not ... in Cove Point just yet,” he murmured, almost apologetically. “But I’ll be a freshman there in the fall.”

He felt the comforting warmth of her body stepping away. Blue-grey eyes, shining silver in the night air, regarded him with vague curiosity.

“I’m sorry. I think I have to go,” she laughed quietly. She didn’t sound too disappointed. But she turned to leave all the same, though not before giving Roxas a gentle lingering kiss on the cheek. 

“Take it easy on the highballs,” she whispered.

Roxas remembered faintly that her name was Vanessa. Although he had a feeling that he probably wouldn’t see her again. He did remember that as she made her way back inside the house, her pale hair resembled the fluttering of doves in the moonlight, achingly familiar.

He was left with a wistful dreaminess as he stared up at the night sky, the sensation of a half-hearted kiss lingering heavy on his skin. The glow of the stars seemed to fade in and out with every breath he took, the peripherals of his vision cloudy and bright with rising luster.

Roxas leaned back against the side of the house, closing his eyes as he felt the rapid beating of his heart. In the silence of the outdoors, with little more than the whispering of trees in the wind, he could hear his pulse between his ears. And there was something else—layers of piano chords, glowing synths that invoked a chorus effect, verses that swam on the tips of his fingers. Roxas needed to be somewhere quieter to hear it, the song that was unfolding in his mind.

That was when he decided to take a walk. He had no idea where he was going but there was palpable invincibility running through his veins, wiring his limbs with steel threads that carried him off into the night. In search of the faint instrumental fragments that revealed themselves to him with every step, Roxas felt like he could have walked all the way to the edge of the horizon. He hoped that if he kept on going and never stopped, the feelings of unrequited love that burned in his heart would somehow grow clear and light, finally arriving where freedom waited at the end of this foggy path.

* * *

Axel was just about ready to call it a night and sleep for the next seventy-two hours.

“You’re probably wondering why I’m running so late.”

“ _Yeah_ , no shit. I haven’t heard from you all day. I think you’ll forgive me if I assumed you’d crashed my car. Please … please tell me you didn’t crash my car. Lie to me if you have to.”

Pulling the phone away from his ear for a moment, he glanced at the time and saw that it was almost midnight. He rubbed his face vigorously as he lay on top of Kairi’s bed. Fuck, he was tired. 

“No, Dem. I didn’t crash your car. Remember when you told me to call Riku? Well, I ended up giving him a ride to Destiny Islands.”

“Oh, sweet. So you’re both here. Well … _where_ are you exactly?”

“I dropped him off at a friend’s house in Cove Point. I’m … I’m still with him right now. He’s not doing so great.”

“I can imagine. Well, do what you have to.” Demyx gave a nonchalant yawn. “Just hit me with your ETA whenever you decide to head out. I’ll let my valet know to let you in. I’m probably gonna head to bed right away, I gota a meeting with someone early tomorrow morning. So you can take whichever room you want when you get here.”

“I might leave soon. I’ll drop the car off but … I might come back to make sure he’s doing okay.”

“Take your time, then. Alright, Axel. I’m falling asleep.”

“‘Kay, Dem. See you soon.”

“Night.”

He pocketed his phone as he got up to check on Riku. He was still fast asleep in the tub, wrapped up in a pastel cloud of pillows, blankets and plushies. There was a tray with water bottles and snacks for him on a nearby table. Axel watched the steady rise and fall of Riku’s chest. He’d done all he could for now.

Pulling out his phone, he began to type a message.

_Went out to see Demyx. I’ll be back. Call me if you need anything, okay?_

“Axel? Why is Riku sleeping in the tub?”

He turned around to see Kairi standing dumbfounded in the doorway, holding juice and a box of takeout.

“Little prince drama queen over here got his hands on a bottle of whiskey,” he sighed. “Don’t worry, I flushed out the rest before he could poison himself. He’s not waking up anytime soon though.”

“Oh, god.” She went over to kneel beside the tub, setting down her armful of snacks on the floor. Running a hand over Riku’s hair, Kairi frowned, her eyes cloudy with emotion. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get here earlier,” she looked up at Axel and he could see ripples of remorse in those deep violets. “The party’s a lot busier than I expected.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Axel waved his hand flippantly. “It’s the least I could do.”

“Thanks for being here. It means a lot and I can’t say that enough.” Kairi tucked the blankets underneath Riku’s chin. “I’m glad he’s got someone looking out for him.”

“He’d do the same.”

_Would he? Does it matter? Fuck, I am so over this._

“Listen, Kairi. I gotta head out. There’s someone expecting me. But I’ll be back later.” He gave her a vague smile. “Take care of him for me while I’m gone?”

“I’ll do my best.” She got up and took his hands into hers, the gesture warm and sweet. “Thanks again. You’re a really good friend, Axel.”

He felt colour rising in his cheeks. He turned to leave before she noticed, throwing a casual wave over his shoulder.

“The spicy cauliflower was delicious. Catch ya later.”

The relief that swept over him as he buckled into the F1 was indescribable. Finally, a moment of peace. He ran his hands through his hair, feeling the long strands flowing against his rings. What a fucking day.

“Demyx, you owe me your firstborn child,” he muttered under his breath as he fired up the engine. Pulling out of Kairi’s extensive circular driveway, he cruised slowly through the suburbs, enjoying the calm of the sleepy streets. He threw on some night drive music. The car was filled with soothing electric jazz, nostalgic vaporwave turning the glow of street lamps neon in his mind.

_You say you know we shouldn’t. You keep holding out but you don’t let go. I’m giving up on trying to sell you things that you ain’t buying._

The drawn out vocals left a haunting wave of unsettling yearning in his chest. In the solitude of midnight, Axel wondered what his next move was going to be. He really had no idea what would come after this day or the day after that. All he knew was that he couldn’t really stay in Destiny Islands, at least not for long. In the land of endless summer and carefree pleasure, he felt a looming claustrophobic dread: the fear of losing sight of himself again.

As he continued along the sleepy suburb streets, his mind drifted in aimless trains of thought. Then he was swept away from his daydreaming when he caught sight of a lone figure walking underneath the glow of the streetlamps.

“What the hell is piano boy doing all the way out here?” he mumbled. He was almost out of the suburbs, a significantly long way from Kairi’s house. How and why the guy had found his way out here on foot wasn’t really a dilemma worth sticking his nose into.

Axel drove past. He willed himself not to look into the rearview mirrors as he turned a corner. The lone figure disappeared from view and a horrific wave of guilt hit him square in the chest without mercy. 

_The least you could do is offer him a lift, you heartless twat._

Today of all days, his conscience felt at liberty to push the bounds of his patience.

“Haven’t I done enough good deeds to fill up my positive karma cache for the next week?” he argued aloud, certain that he was slowly losing his mind.

_That’s not really how karma works._

“Fuck. It.”

He looped around the block and went back to where piano boy was wandering aimlessly on the sidewalk. Wherever he needed to be dropped off, Axel hoped that it wouldn’t be too far.

* * *

Roxas could hear the music in his steps, soft notes playing as he passed by the warm glow of sleepy houses. The hidden melody carried him further into the night, his thoughts swirling forest purple, fairies dancing in a woozy ballet. He listened closely.

_Wanna take a chance? I’m dancing out here, solo. Tonight I feel closer to you. There’s something I gotta say but I think I lost my line. I can almost hear your summer smile. On the slim chance you’d call, I’d probably just say: No, everything is fine._

The loud purr of an engine broke a rift through his train of thought. He looked over his shoulder and he could have sworn he heard a chorus of voices singing in the distance, muses filled with light. He’d never seen anything more beautiful in all his life.

* * *

Axel hadn’t seen him up close until that moment. In the back of his mind, some dim realization flickered like a candle in the darkness, as if there was something about this stranger that he ought to remember.

One look at that face was enough to convince him that there were some things on this earth capable of bringing heaven closer to nonbelievers.

* * *

A svelte body dressed in velvet, custom black. An emphasis of red, saturated and swift, draped against long sleek lines. Futuristic geometry held the promise of an unforgettable experience. 

Roxas’s mouth was painfully dry. 

“That’s a McLaren F1,” he whispered reverently.

The car that pulled up beside him on the road possessed an unearthly elegance. Roxas wondered dimly if this might have been the LSD at work. And then he had to remind himself with a mental chuckle that 1) entheogens didn't work that way, and 2) he still had enough presence of mind to know that he was still in Cove Point— _everyone_ here drove a ridiculous sports car.

It was during the middle of his musings when the left-side door opened. As it swung up gently like the wing of a butterfly, the interior was slowly revealed to Roxas, the moment swelling in a crescendo. 

His vision swam as he locked eyes with endless green, authentic emeralds containing brilliant triangular facets of endless precision. Roxas completely lost his train of thought. The melody he’d been chasing trailed off into nothingness without a trace but he didn’t mind the sudden silence.

Axel considered himself pretty good when it came to words. But at that moment, his heart filled with wild errant feelings of self-doubt, he stared into large eyes of infinite midnight blue and could barely form a sentence.

He felt like kicking himself.

_Say something, you look like an idiot._

“You lost?”

He was met with a look of curious indecision, as if the answer should have been obvious.

“No. Just taking a walk. It’s a nice night. Sick whip.”

There was electricity humming in those dark blues.

“Thanks, but it’s not mine. You’re pretty far from where you came.” He clarified hurriedly, “I saw you back at the party. You’ve got some nice pipes.”

Roxas felt his cheeks turning pink.

“Thanks. I don’t think I saw you around.”

There was a teasing look.

“You sure we haven’t met at some point?”

Roxas shrugged, unphased.

“I think I’d remember you. I’m not that fucked up.”

“Sure, kid. That explains why you’re all the way out here by yourself.”

There was a moment of tension, an open gaze assessing Axel, as if he was some familiar word that was difficult to comprehend, dark eyes grasping for elusive meaning. They regarded each other curiously, both of them preoccupied with that haunting, familiar question: “Where have I seen you before?”

Axel cleared his throat. “You need a ride?”

He gave a look that essentially boiled down to “take it or leave it.”

“To where?” Roxas wondered aloud.

Axel resisted the urge to laugh.

“That’s entirely up to you.”

* * *

Sitting closely in the left-side passenger seat, the first thing Roxas noticed was the ink, numerous dark lines and shades buried close to the surface of haughty cheeks, long slender arms, and architectural fingers. The black lines must have had a story. He didn’t ask about them, not then, even though they gave off the distinct impression of youthful recklessness, the faintest suggestion of danger. But once he recognized the glossy synths playing from the stereo, haunting low fidelity and familiar rhythms of nostalgia, Roxas decided that the guy couldn’t have been all that bad.

“I gotta know. Is this a habit of yours?”

The stranger’s voice rumbled, surprisingly deep, fluid and scorching.

“What is?”

“This. Moonlit strolls into strangers’ street legal race cars.”

“Yep, you got me. I would’ve kept walking if you pulled up in a Dodge Ram.”

“Because trucks are a shameless display of poor taste in this city?”

“That. And the wrongful equation of ugliness with practicality, which some might argue is even worse.”

“This,” Axel gestured wildly at the unconventionally narrow interior of the F1, “this strikes you as practical?”

Roxas laughed, incredulous.

“No. But it’s beautiful. That serves a function on its own.”

“You almost sound like you were born here.”

“I wasn’t. I lived here when I was younger though.”

Axel gave him a look brimming with curiosity.

“There’s a ‘but’ in there.”

Roxas continued patiently. 

“My mom and I moved when I was five.”

“Let me guess: small town, less than a thousand people, cornfields as far as the eye can see, and a demographic staunchly in favour of very practical yet unforgivably ugly pickup trucks?”

Roxas couldn’t decide if the guy was making fun of him or if this was some misguided attempt at small talk. He decided to humour him.

“Not quite,” he responded. “We don’t have cornfields in Twilight Town. Our primary tourist attraction happens to be snow sports.”

Axel made the outrageous move of inhaling a nonexistent rail from the long line of his index finger.

“Skiing of all types?”

Despite the begrudging knowledge that he wasn’t exactly wrong (the snow children that frequented the slopes back home did indeed seek all kinds of fresh powder), Roxas refused to cede the point.

“So you’ve been?” he asked, deflecting.

“No, but plenty of my friends have. Can’t say that my recklessness extends to sliding down icy mountains on a piece of plywood at mach 5 speed.”

“But it extends to other garden varieties of thrill-seeking?”

“Let’s just say I’m a sucker for spacey hitchhikers who may or may not have a nose candy fix.”

Roxas actually laughed.

“So when you were asking me if this was a habit of mine,” he ventured slowly, “you were really just projecting?”

“Sounds like someone just finished their first year of undergraduate-level psychology.”

Axel had a talent for pushing buttons. It was almost second nature, getting a rise out of people. So of course he almost always expected for there to be a caustic, defensive kickback.

When none came, he didn’t even realize he’d been waiting with baited breath until five minutes of silence had passed. The underwhelming lack of response hit him and Axel reflexively turned to glance beside him to make sure his passenger was still breathing. To his mounting surprise, the guy only seemed to regard him with lighthearted interest.

Axel was at a loss for words and he had a nagging suspicion that this would be a recurring pattern. He was starting to feel like ten shades of jackass and began to wonder if this stranger was indeed a student in undergraduate psychology. If he was, then it was likely that he’d already written off Axel as some insensitive asshole with chronic foot-in-mouth syndrome. Which then made him feel like maybe he didn’t want the guy to hate him. He wondered when he began to put so much stock in the opinions of other people.

Before he put himself through the pain of an awkward, half-baked apology, the blond must have sensed his inner turmoil because that was when he chose to break the silence.

“First,” he said evenly, playing with a loose thread on the end of his shirt, “I’m enrolled in the music program at Cove Point, which probably makes me a more idealistic person than if I was in psychology. Second,” the electricity in his eyes took on a sharp glimmer, “I don’t have a coke habit.”

Not for the first time that day, Axel was at a loss for what to say, not because he was stumped, but because a waterfall of salacious responses surged like a biblical flood in his brain. He struggled to choose which negligent inquiry he could fire off first.

Roxas beat him to the punch with a firecracker revelation.

“But sometimes I like to trip. Like when I took an acid gummy bear from some chemical engineer back at the party.” He shrugged, fighting off a laugh, his eyes filled with barely restrained glee. “I’m high right now. I thought you should know before this conversation gets any more cynical.”

Axel wanted to die in the throes of hysterical laughter. 

“No shit, huh? So your moonlight stroll was an attempt to get closer to nature? Get in touch with your higher self?”

Again, Roxas chose to ignore the blitheness in his remarks, content to respond with an obliging shrug.

“Sure. Something like that.”

“Well, as far as psychedelic pastimes go, I think I can do you one better.” Axel threw him a slanted, fox-like grin in the left side rearview mirror. “You got anywhere to be in the next hour?”

Roxas grinned from ear to ear.

“I have a feeling I’ll be ‘getting in touch with my higher self.’”

“Say no more.”

When Axel punched the gas and threw the transmission into high gear, Roxas could remember dimly wondering why he hadn’t felt a healthy sense of self-preservation then. What he really should have done was tell this guy to take him back so he could sober up in bed—the responsible choice. But the same instinct that drove him to take a long aimless walk in solitude, the very impulse that got him into this car in the first place, was the same one that kept him bizarrely rooted in the situation. There was an overwhelming curiosity telling him that the night was young and he needed to see where this was all going.

“The name’s Axel by the way.”

“I’m Roxas.”

“I gotta tell ya, Roxas. In all my long eventful years on this earth—and believe me when I say I’ve been through some pretty far out shit—this definitely takes the cake for pleasant surprises.”

“Thank … you?”

“It’s not a bad thing. When you’ve lived through life like I have, you start to believe that nothing can amaze you anymore. How does a drive-in movie sound?”

Roxas nodded, the smile on his face impossibly wide. "I'd really like that,” he murmured. Then he shifted in his seat to peer curiously at Axel, blue eyes so impossibly vast that gazing into them felt like freefalling through the night sky. “Is there really a point when you’ve lived so much of life that you’re no longer surprised by anything?”

The question was filled genuine curiosity and the faint traces of hope in there were unmistakable. In return, the glowing smile that Axel gave was indescribable.

“I guess not. I think I was wrong to ever think that.”

They were on a reckless flight, sailing north along Starfall Drive, moonlight on the waters a rainfall of glitter in their peripheral vision. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was unbelievably fun to write and I hoped you enjoyed reading it, too :) Stay tuned for the next update on September 10th!


	5. Sunrise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sunrise is almost 95% dialogue. Maybe that's to make up for the fact that our boys didn't get to meet until chapter four ...
> 
> This one goes out to one of my soul mates, B, who may or may not read this in the future. From the moment we met, I instantly felt that I could always be myself around you. We talked for six hours that very first day and finding someone like you is one in a million. I'm a lucky duck to be able to call you a lifelong friend.

Kairi’s party had reached a rather chaotic climax by the time 1:00 a.m. rolled around. Somebody had smashed a full champagne bottle on the white living room rug, the game of ultimate jenga in the pool had ended in a bitter rivalry between the Cove Point swim and soccer teams, and there were rumours circling about some tall tattooed hottie who had allegedly finished off all the spicy cauliflower hors d'oeuvres. Sneaking away from the argument that was boiling over by the poolside, Sora figured it was about time he tried to look for Roxas and Pence.

“Man, I really let the clock get away from me, huh,” he muttered to himself as he walked past a gaggle of people hastily clearing broken glass and lukewarm champagne from the living room floor. “Well, y’know what they say: time flies when you’re playing ultimate jenga and accidentally start a turf war.”

He really hoped that his name would be omitted in whatever version of that story managed to reach Kairi’s ears. Sora hadn’t seen his best friend all night, preoccupied as he was, and it occurred to him that Kairi was probably dealing with her own fair share of chaos. But given that she was the most capable person he knew, Sora was certain that she had absolutely everything under control. 

Waving at a group he recognized from school, Sora thought that there must have been over a hundred people in attendance that night. 

“I wonder where Roxas and Pence are,” he thought aloud, passing a group of girls he recognized from Kairi’s student council posse. He gave them a wide smile as he walked past.

“I can’t believe you made out with him, Vanessa! He’s _so_ dreamy.”

“Yeah, about that … I think he’s too young for me.”

“Really? I thought he was a sophomore.”

Sora let the conversation trail off as he marched up the stairs. Did a part of him want to stay behind and eavesdrop? Absolutely. Was it more important that he find his brother before Roxas got himself into some kind of trouble like he usually did? Probably. When his search in the common areas failed to yield any sight of his friends, Sora began searching through the various bedrooms.

“What’s behind door number one,” he snickered as he pushed into the first of the guest bedrooms. Stepping inside, his eyes locked with the people sitting in a circle on the floor, a group of five gathered around what looked to be … a ouija board.

“Hey, man,” came the jarringly casual greeting from a tall guy with piercing blue eyes. “Wanna talk to ghosts with us?”

“Uh, no, thank you. Although that sounds like fun! I’m sort of on a mission here. Would any of you happen to have seen my brother? He’s blond and looks kinda like me. He’s a little less tan, has freckles, sings with the voice of an angel. Ringing any bells?”

“I think I gave him a gummy bear earlier—”

“OH, _that_ guy’s your brother?” one of the girls squealed. “I saw him playing the piano. He’s _so_ handsome. Does he have a girlfriend?”

“Hmph,” one of the guys in the circle scoffed. “What makes you so sure he’s _straight_?”

“What makes you so sure he’s _not_?”

“Stephanie, honey, I’m sorry to break this to you but no guy who’s that good-looking is ever straight.”

“Kyle, you’re just saying that because _you_ want his number!”

“You guys, stop arguing. You might not agree on a lot but there is one very important thing we have in common here: _we all_ want his number.”

Sora tiptoed his way out and quietly shut the door behind him. He marched away in panicked haste, eager to forget that encounter at his earliest convenience. There was a reluctant part of him that wondered about Roxas’s heartthrob status. His brother definitely wasn’t _ugly_ by any means but to have a handful of people in this much of a frenzy over him …

“I guess he does look a lot like mom,” Sora muttered to himself as he came upon door number two. Keeping his fingers crossed, he pried the handle open and peered into the darkness. He spied a huddled form on the bed and hoped to god he hadn’t just walked in on someone in the middle of personal business.

“Uhh, sorry to intrude but I’m just wondering if you might have seen my brother? He’s blond, kinda looks like me—I hope—he’s got freckles and he sings like an angel—”

The lump on the bed stirred.

“Sora?”

He squinted into the darkness.

“Pence! Hey buddy,” Sora laughed as he shut the door behind him and walked over to the bed. He switched on the bedside lamp and took a seat on the mattress. He watched as Pence yawned and rubbed at his eyes. “Oh, shit. Sorry, did I wake you?”

“No, not really. You’re looking for Roxas?”

“Yeah! Do you know where he is?”

Pence sighed and gave him a long-suffering look as he explained, “I’m guessing he’s ‘busy’ right now. Before I went to lie down, this one girl was getting pretty handsy with him.”

Sora’s mouth formed an O-shape of realization.

“Right. Boy, am I glad I didn’t open any more bedroom doors,” he cringed at the thought. “I dunno if I can handle seeing my little brother—y’know what. Never mind. Let’s not even go down that road. How’s _your_ night been?” 

He stretched out on the bed, propping his chin up on a hand, throwing Pence one of his best winning smiles.

Pence shrugged.

“I’m okay, I guess? I’ve met some pretty cool people. But I think I had too many energy drinks during the day because I’m crashing _hard_. I’m also way more drunk than I was planning to be. Do you know how hard it is trying to keep up with Roxas? He has the liver of a horse. I think the only person who might be able to out-drink him is Hayner and that’s only by a frighteningly small margin.”

Admittedly, this wasn’t obvious knowledge to Sora but he wasn’t completely surprised either. He wouldn’t put Roxas down as the tight-lipped sort but he suspected that his brother was never entirely forthcoming about his Twilight Town shenanigans.

Pence sat up and adjusted his headband from where it had begun to slip down his forehead. He gave Sora a sheepish look as he explained, “Usually it’s Hayner and Roxas who routinely get shitfaced on the weekends.”

“Ah, to be young and carefree again,” Sora sighed.

“Um … I thought you were only two years older than us?”

“Correct. But,” Sora gave a half-hearted shrug, “I’m also on the varsity swim team. I can’t do anything _too_ crazy, if you know what I mean. Gotta be in top shape.” 

“Yeah, that makes sense.”

“Besides, Roxas gets up to enough crazy shenanigans for the both of us, am I right?” Sora chuckled as he nudged Pence with his elbow. “I bet you wish Olette was here right now. You could _both_ be the responsible ones.”

Pence grimaced and avoided eye contact. 

“Yeah. I’m sure she’d love being here by the beach.”

Sora cocked his head, noting the wistful look on Pence’s face. He held back from mentioning it. 

“Your friends are definitely welcome to stay over whenever they wanna visit.” Giving a warm smile, Sora hoped that Pence felt comfortable enough to try and talk to him. “I get what it’s like when a close friend moves away … I dunno about you, but whenever that happens, I get pretty sad. I know that you and my brother haven’t exactly been here for very long, but it’s still okay to miss your friends and family back home. Because I’m pretty sure they miss you, too.”

Pence smiled back, his expression open and reassuring.

“Thanks, Sora. You know, I’ve always wanted to meet you and see what you’re like in person. Roxas always talks about how you’re his favourite person in the whole world.”

“ _What_? My brother said that?” Sora’s ocean blue eyes brightened. “Man, that’s really …”

“Please don’t tell him—”

“Ultra mushy, super _sappy_.” Sora held his stomach as he broke out in a fit of laughter, slapping his knee like he’d never heard anything funnier. “I didn’t realize Roxas was such a softie! He will _never_ live this down. I don’t think I’m buying his tough guy attitude ever again.”

Pence groaned and buried his face into a pillow.

“If I were you, I’d take his ‘tough guy attitude’ a little more seriously,” he mumbled incoherently into the downy softness. “Seifer once made the mistake of telling Hayner that god himself would subscribe to his skate channel just so he could unsubscribe out of spite. Roxas punched him so hard that Seifer unironically started watching Hayner’s videos the next day. He even gave a _like_.”

“Was it really that scary …?”

“Have you _met_ Roxas? Dude is always ready to throw down.”

Sora whistled.

“Man, do I ever pity the next guy who gets on his nerves.”

* * *

“So … now that you know all about my rosy hopes of music school, I gotta ask: what do you do exactly?”

“Not much of anything considering that I’m sort of retired.”

“But you’re so … young.”

“Don’t let the retinol and concealer fool you. I’ve had some birthdays on me.”

“Okay but … if you’re retired at … I’m guessing twenty-two?”

“Close. Twenty-four.”

“Okay. If you’re retired at twenty-four, what was it that you used to do?”

“You have three guesses before the night is over.”

“Investment banker.”

There was a cold pause.

“I can’t believe you would dagger me in the back like that. Do I look like a business school chode with a country club membership and fondness for offshore accounts, who derives life force energy from screwing sick children out of their charity funds?”

“No. But I thought that my first shot in the dark should at least be hilarious.”

“I hope you feel like that was a guess well spent.”

“Absolutely.”

“Roxas, you’re a goddamn comedian.”

* * *

Roxas would remember every detail of that night with breathtaking clarity. He could have drawn a picture out of every single second, every word they exchanged written permanently in his memory, a film reel composed of vivid sensations. He didn’t think that he could recall anything else in his life with as much faithful precision.

Axel’s skin was like washi paper, rolls of white parchment bearing the indelible ink of so many improbable stories. The red of his hair was intense and sharply sweet, like the taste of hibiscus petals swimming in sun warmed honey. There was the jet black and candy blue of houndstooth woven into tailored silk, the sleek material tucked into the high waistband of vintage leather pants, tight outlines wrapped around his slender body like a corset. 

His right hand was perched over the gearshift like a bird made of bones, each knuckle covered in industrial titanium and royal gold, pieces so abstract Roxas had been convinced that each was made specifically for him. He had assorted hardware in the cartilage of his ears, black and chrome piercings that glimmered intermittently as they drove underneath the city lights.

Roxas traced the graceful symmetry of his face with slow, lingering glances, watching as long smooth planes came together on high arches. 

Most memorable of all were those eyes. Even in the dark of night, they stayed that same saturated shade green, brilliant enough to rival the outrageous gems that he wore so casually. Roxas knew that he was staring and maybe it would have been kind of rude, but Axel didn’t seem to notice. In fact, those clear cut irises met his own more often than not, as that deep voice carried on, wild and aimless, perpetually self-assured.

It almost seemed as if that enigma of a man had been forged with nothing but imperious grace and the fearless pursuit of freedom. He wore his boundless appetite for life right on his sleeve, so vigorously and with such open candor that it was enviable. Axel wasn’t quite like anyone he’d ever met before and Roxas was sure that he wouldn’t meet anyone like him ever again. He was lightning in a bottle. 

Roxas wanted to drink in every fleeting moment, afraid that the surreal reality would start slipping away like a half-remembered dream if he took his eyes away for even a single second.

* * *

They’d arrived in a park area just north of downtown where apparently some indie-hipsters of the neighbourhood were throwing an outdoor movie screening. After buying snacks and an absurd amount of candy (Axel’s only claim to sustenance was a small bag of plain popcorn—looking at Roxas’s food choices made his stomach churn), they made their way back to the car and waited for the projector to start rolling. All seemed to be going well and Axel was starting to feel pretty damn good about himself—was he a good trip sitter or what?—until the massive outdoor screen glowed bright with the floodlights of motion pictures. As the black and white frames glowed in the distance, Axel let out what could only be described as a wounded howl.

“You have got to be taking the piss. They’re showing Casa- _fucking_ -blanca. Gimme a break! They usually show _Fantastic Mr. Fox_ on Friday nights. Whoever’s on the film fest committee needs to get their priorities straight. Who in their right mind wants to be reminded of a depressing unrequited love story right before the weekend?! Talk about a buzzkill. This is supposed to be the time to, like … watch some goofy lighthearted fox mischief. Fuck, sorry, Roxas. If this oldies fiasco is too much of bummer we could head over to—”

That was when Roxas pushed a button to roll up the windows, slowly cutting off sound from the outside world. Axel watched curiously as the blond cleared his throat and turned to face him.

“‘Where were you last night?’” Roxas sighed as he took on the simpering wistful look of Yvonne. Then he turned to his right and assumed Rick’s cold stoicism and continued in a deep serious voice, “‘That’s so long ago, I don’t remember.

“‘Will I see you tonight?’

“‘I never make plans that far ahead.’”

He threw Axel a wide grin, his blown out pupils swallowing the blue within his eyes.

Axel doubled over and howled with laughter, spilling popcorn all over the floor.

“Ah, son of a bitch—y’know, I wouldn’t have pegged you as the type who was actually into this moody and romantic type of stuff.”

“It’s my mom’s favourite movie,” he explained, nonchalant. “And sometimes I watch it with the sound off and listen to music on my headphones. For something that’s all black and white, the lighting in each shot has a way of … sparkling. But you’re right, it is kind of a bummer watch on a Friday night. But not because of unrequited love.”

“Oh, yeah?” Axel paused to glance at Roxas from where he was cleaning up his mess on the left side of the car. “Why’s it a bummer then if not for that?”

“It’s sad because Ilsa and Rick _do_ love each other, but they met in the wrong place at the wrong time. There’s a war going on and love is little more than a self-indulgent fantasy. And there’s nothing to be done about that. They don’t even get the benefit of a ‘what if’ when it all ends. It just … ends. And all they’re left with are memories.”

Axel seemed to think about that for a moment.

“Memories aren’t a bad thing to have,” he said, finally straightening up once he’d cleared the floor. “Especially if they’re good ones.”

“But is it enough?”

A part of Axel felt uncomfortable with the question, as if there could have been a right or wrong answer. But there was a sincerity in Roxas’s voice that compelled him to respond as honestly as he could. 

“I don’t think I know,” he said with a soft smile. “I’ve never been in love.”

Roxas regarded him with a curious glance. His eyes were somber, fully trusting that what he said was true, but there was a lack of contentment in his voice when he responded, “I can’t say the same.”

He’d grown a little quieter then, as if bracing for some diminishing comment, something dismissive and paltry like, “You’re still so young. What do you really know about love?” His uncertainty was replaced with a sudden spike in adrenaline when Axel dropped a question, innocuous and sincere, and Roxas realized that this was the first time he’d ever talked about his feelings.

“So … do you have a ‘what if’ or an ending?”

Green eyes reflected the black and white intensity of the film projection, a whole world of the past contained within a single look.

Roxas didn’t exactly feel sad and he hoped he didn’t come off that way.

“It’s kind of an ending, I suppose,” he began, slowly venturing into dark uncharted waters. “There was never a ‘what if.’”

He could sense the tides turning. Somewhere deep inside him, rushing waves broke on the rocks, foam yielding to gravity, cold particles lost in the night air. For the longest time he’d convinced himself that he wouldn’t tell a soul. And while his admission hadn’t exactly unveiled every part of the truth, it still felt like he’d said too much. To a complete stranger no less.

But any regret that might have blossomed was put to rest as Axel gave him a reassuring grin.

“Heh, what did I tell you?” he chuckled. “Bummer watch.”

Roxas felt like an idiot because he couldn’t stop smiling. He shrugged it off and turned on the stereo.

“This hooked up to your phone?”

“Yeah.”

Axel handed him the device. Roxas began playing songs set to the scenes of the movie, each track filling in the gaps of silence with melody and rhythm in translation. Axel sat back and bobbed his head, grinning from ear to ear.

“Not bad,” he commented when the movie reached its end. “You might have a pretty good career as shotgun DJ.”

“I think I prefer being behind the wheel. If only I could do that and drive at the same time. Shit would be mint.”

Roxas polished off the last of his popcorn, tossing the crumpled paper into a plastic bag along with the varied assortment of empty candy packages that he’d absolutely demolished.

“I guess it’s a good thing that playlists are accessible technology. What oh what did we do before that? Oh, I remember. We listened to the radio like cavemen, that’s what. But you probably weren’t even a hope in your mom’s head at that time.”

Roxas snorted.

“If that were true, then I should take the keys right now and drop you off at the seniors home this very second. Wouldn’t want you running late for Friday night bingo bonanza.”

“And miss your ongoing comedy special? Not a chance. This is Uncle Axel’s idea of a wild night out.”

“Can’t say I have too much material left here. We might have to think of more conventional ways to get crazy.”

“Jeez, tough crowd,” Axel gave him a teasing look. “Let’s see—so far tonight you’ve been to a Cove Point rager, dropped an acid gummy bear, got into a strange man’s car, then spent almost two hours giving me an audio visual concert. What’s next on the lineup of excitement? Base jumping?”

“No, you maniac. I said ‘conventional.’”

“In this city, that might actually be the case. The venn diagram of adrenaline junkies and hippies in Destiny Islands is a circle.”

Roxas shook his head, laughing so hard he was starting to get dizzy.

“I meant conventional fare for a psychedelic frame of mind.”

“Still going, huh? Any crazy visuals? Hearing the disembodied voices of god?”

“Not really. I don’t think I took a high enough dose. But … everything, colours and sound, just seem a little brighter and I feel … absurdly happy. Dunno if you’ve noticed, but I can’t stop smiling. Tonight of all nights, life has chosen to be this hilarious and I can’t get that out of my head. The thought just keeps repeating, y’know?” Roxas rubbed his cheek, half-concealing a lopsided grin. “If I was hearing god right now, I don’t think I’d be able to hold up a conversation. Although, you do kind of look like a carnival clown.”

“I’m just gonna go ahead and ignore that. Especially since you’ve chosen me to be your spirit guide for the evening,” Axel wagged a finger in his direction. “I’d say I’m absolutely _crushing_ it so far with the drive-in movie choice and candy supply. So, you’re welcome. And lucky for you, I’m not a total square—so I know exactly where this night should continue.”

He turned the key in the ignition and shifted into gear. 

“Strap in. We’re going for a joy ride.”

Roxas’s smile never left his face.

“Spirit guide for real.”

* * *

The night lights of the city flew by, an erratic ribbon of falling stars.

“How serious were you? When you said you’ve never been in love before?”

“Serious like cardiac arrest.”

“O- _kay_.”

“No, really. All that romanticism of everlasting love? It’s like a shoe that never quite fit.”

“I never would have guessed.”

“And I would have never looked at that Sweet Caroline face of yours and pegged you as aggressively snarky.”

“Can’t say people make a habit of comparing me to Neil Diamond.”

“Don’t get used to it, kid.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Soft reverb filtered through the stereo, mellow saxophone notes offset with the full open rhythm of kickdrums and fluttering snares.

_Is it seven o’clock? You got me looking at my watch every minute. Because I’m waiting on you._

The digital clock on the dashboard actually read 2:45. 

Roxas’s thoughts were racing and his mouth could barely keep up.

“You’ve done acid before, I’m guessing.”

Axel’s grin was amused and wry.

“Have I done acid before? A more appropriate question would be what _haven’t_ I done? There was this one time at a music festival—and this was during a sunrise set on Sunday morning, so that should tell you enough about the atmosphere that informed my choices—”

“What atmosphere would that be?”

“ _Right_. Well, consider this a prophetic suggestion for when you decide to indulge in a drug-fueled camping excursion in the woods: the last night always turns into a mad jungle of white-whale-hunting, search-for-King-Solomon’s-treasure, desperate chase for the perfect high, perfect festival experience. Now consider this: fifteen thousand people are on this madness fueled search together.

“You get to thinking that maybe, even if you’ve already done a gram of ketamine, enough dabs to put you to sleep for the next century, and a few leisurely bumps of cocaine to keep you on your feet—when you see people around you doing five times that and then some, you start to feel like it’s time to play a game of catch up.

“So I’m out there sitting in a hammock, watching this orchestral clusterfuck of wavy grinding bass, cruising easy as maple syrup on pancakes in the forest, when this man emerges from the darkness of the redwoods looking like the personification of Salvador Dali’s _Burning Giraffe_. Some sage internal voice piped up just then, telling me that taking five tabs of acid from this person was the only correct thing I could have done at four in the morning.”

“ _Damn_ , dude. Seriously? I’ve only done a small fraction of that tonight and it’s been impossible to ignore speeding thought trains of, you know, my cosmic insignificance.”

“You see where I’m going with this. Well I took the tabs like you would a stick of gum and the friend who was with me at the time looked at me like I’d just jumped headfirst into an infinity pool full of burning oil.”

“That’s … colourful.”

“And it ended up being more true to life than you might think. The last thing I remember from this dimension was getting out of the hammock I was in. When my feet touched the ground, it was like my soul left my body to ascend into one of the rings of Saturn as an extraterrestrial bird made of diamonds. I’m not gonna bore you with all the details and symbolism of my psychedelic journey with the cosmic trees and singing stars. I will, however, tell you that after roughly twenty-two hours of communing with biblical angels and facing my inner demons, I learned one very vital lesson.”

Roxas was on the edge of his seat.

“Which was?”

“If you’re going to be half-naked and physically incapacitated in the woods after taking an absurd cocktail of drugs, you might wanna make sure you have a reliable ride back home at the end of the weekend. Or else you might have to pawn off your solid platinum lion’s head Light Cycle ring at a truck stop in exchange for a six-hour drive, where you get the pleasure of having your ear talked off about Malcolm’s failing marriage while nursing the world’s worst spiritual hangover.”

“I … will probably remember that, if a man who looks like a surrealist painting ever offers me the potential for drug-induced psychosis. Sorry about your ring.”

“It was a tacky piece of trash. I did both Malcolm’s marriage and myself a favour by parting with it. And saying yes to the drugs wasn’t the problem—”

“Right.”

“Do me a small kindness and withhold your disbelief until I’ve finished my point. Yeah? Cool, thank you. The point is, when you’re suddenly thrust into moments of intense, humbling vulnerability, do you examine who you choose to surround yourself with?”

After a momentary pause, Roxas levelled him with a smile full of barely suppressed glee.

“Let me get this straight,” he ventured with a vain attempt at a brave face. “This whole tale of caution … regaling me with a self-deprecating but vague festival bender experience—talk about beating around the bush. Are you just trying to ask me why I’m here with you tonight?”

Axel scowled.

“You have a real talent for raining on my parade.”

“If you really need to know,” Roxas nodded to the stereo, “when you pulled up and asked me if I was lost, I noticed that you were on track four of _Floral Shoppe_.” He shrugged casually. “Most people don't ever listens past ‘Lisa Frank 420.’”

“Can you really judge a book by its top five album choices?”

“Only in the sense of whether or not said book might actually be cool hippie.”

“And you gathered that based on my random choice of song and not the psychedelic odyssey I just told you about?”

“I’m gonna take a wild shot in the dark here and say that you’re vegan.”

Axel couldn’t stop himself from snapping his eyes away from the road to level Roxas with an incredulous stare.

“Are you _sure_ we haven’t met before?”

“Trust me, I’d remember you. Also, you ordered _plain popcorn_. What kind of a psycho move is that if you’re not living dairy-free?”

“I’d give you a medal for detective work if we weren’t on the west coast. Every other person here is on some diet craze or obsessed with the health benefits of vitamin B injections.”

“Yeah, except you’re not from here.”

“Is anybody?”

“Well, for the most part no, so I’ll admit that was an easy guess. Where are you from?”

“Like where was I born or where do I live?”

“Either. Both. Whichever is more relevant.”

“What would constitute a relevant place of origin?”

“We can start with your place of birth."

“Midgar General Hospital.”

“You’re a _long_ way from home.”

“Yeah, why do you think I haven’t been back in six years?”

Roxas looked bewildered for a brief moment as he digested the possible implications of staying away from home for such a lengthy span of time. He only had vague knowledge of the current events in that part of the world. But he imagined that some of Axel’s reasons for leaving might have had something to do with the explosion of political chaos in the region.

He could only offer his own limited insight about home.

“I don’t think I could stay away from Twilight Town for that many years, no matter where in the world I happen to end up. I could never be away from my friends and family for that long.”

“I don’t know if I’ve ever lived anywhere for longer than a year or two since I turned sixteen. And my family’s batshit crazy. I don’t think I’ve spoken to my brother in … I dunno. Maybe it’s been four years now. But that depressing shit’s neither here nor there. Let’s get back on track here. If we’re talking home in the sense of places I’ve been, then I guess you can say I’ve had more than a dozen homecomings in the past little while.

“Okay, you ready for this? When I was on the road a year and a half ago, I came across this small town. It might actually be a couple days’ drive from where you live. It’s this boring little shithole except for one thing: this place would have flown completely under my radar had it not been for the unique choice of welcome sign on the highway. You’ll never guess what it was.”

“A giant egg?”

“Hey, that’s a pretty good guess. It was a giant mouse wearing a ball cap. I’m talking lab mouse, fifteen feet tall, looking sporty as all hell. In my past life I must have been a curious cat, because that was enough to send me on a detour. I drove into town and got myself a motel room. I was on a mission: find out what that mouse thing was about.

“Now this place wasn’t too big, so it was only a matter of minutes before I stumbled into this museum by the town hall. The place had been built into an old house—the entire thing looked like it might have tipped over if the wind was having a bad day. I walked in and there was only one thing inside: a miniature train set passing through scenes of historical moments in each room. But instead of people, the little characters were made up of taxidermy mice. Taxidermy. Mice.”

“What the hell.”

“I _know_ , fuckin’ weird. So obviously I spent three hours in there and probably did a loop of the train tracks a hundred times. This thing had so many details—the little mice had tiny stitched clothes and tiny homes and even tinier gadgets. It was like someone shrunk a bunch of cities down to mice size. There was this old western scene thrown in, shootout and all, and when I peeped one of the mice on the reload, I could see down the individual barrels of his little revolver, complete with steel bullets.”

“How big was this thing?”

“Must have been a ten metre stretch.”

“Crazy. That’s a lot of taxidermy mice. Did you ever find out what it was about?”

“I’m _so_ glad you asked. After spending a wonderful couple of hours in that delightfully hair-raising portal into the twilight zone, I went out to the dive bar across the road and ordered a beer and I didn’t really beat around the bush. I jumped straight to the point and asked the bartender about the mice. I felt kinda bad for the poor guy—you could just tell that he’d explained it way too many times.

“He tossed me this brochure and gave me the rundown: once upon a time, one of the town’s founding farmers—some reclusive rich fart who grew snap peas and wheat and whatever else—bred mice because he loved the little suckers so much. Now if you ask me, having agriculture and adorable rodents as your two primary hobbies is a top notch way to court ironic disaster. But somehow this guy found a way to make both things work. He kept breeding mice throughout his life and his fields remained bountiful.”

“A lesson in having your cake and eating it, too.”

“Exactly. And instead of buying beachfront real estate like every other retired son of a gun, he decided to spend the rest of his days on this earth immortalizing his mouse dynasty in a miniature train set museum. The brochure even had little biographies of _each mouse_ and their given roles in the diorama.”

Roxas let out a whistle.

Axel continued, finally arriving at some semblance of a point. 

“I mean, if you’re talking about being left with nothing but memories, isn’t that the epitome of holding on to the good times?”

“You’re relating the taxidermy mice museum … to Casablanca?”

“Well, yeah. That farmer loved the hell out of his mice.”

Roxas gave him a wildly incredulous look.

“Are you implying that there’s a faint distinction between love and madness?”

“Madness?! Roxas, there _is_ no distinction. You can’t tell me that any act directly contradicting self-preservation isn’t at least a little bit crazy.”

“If you’re gonna bring Darwinism into this, you can quit while you’re ahead,” Roxas served the rebuttal with a penetrating gaze. “Surely you believe in a middle ground? It doesn’t have to be so cynical. Like … I don’t think it takes an obsessive hybrid of embalming and arts n’ crafts to show that you love something. And stuff like that isn’t so much about contradicting your own survival so much as it’s about …”

He trailed off, his thoughts spiraling into the ether.

Axel gave him a coaxing glance.

“About …?”

Roxas sighed, running fingers through his hair loosely. He pulled his gaze away from Axel to glance at the dormant hills speeding past them on the freeway.

“People aren’t meant to be alone,” he said, earnest and resolute. “I guess that’s what I’m trying to say.”

Axel was quiet for a moment.

“True enough. But it comes with a lot of expectations.”

“Being with people? Of course it does. It’s not easy. We’re all complicated.”

“Beyond complicated. It makes you wonder why Rick chose Casablanca and why that farmer chose his mice.”

Roxas would think back on that conversation countless times over the course of the next five years, dissecting every word for some sort of meaning. Even in his dreams, it felt elusive, the fragments of that night slipping through his fingers like warm sand.

* * *

“Alright, I think I have my second guess.”

“Hit me.”

“You were a male escort,” Roxas joked.

When he was met with drawn out silence, a feeling of dread rose like hot air in his chest.

“I suppose that’s not too far off,” Axel finally mused out loud. But he refrained from meeting Roxas’s gaze. There was the slightest hint of an unreadable smile as he lingered in quiet thought for a few more seconds. “Still not there yet,” he said gently, the unspoken lenience sitting kindly just beneath the surface.

Roxas slouched a little in his seat and felt all kinds of stupid. He thought about taking it back, kicking himself for ever having found the idea funny to begin with. But before he could start forming some slipshod apology, Axel turned those bright green eyes on him and he was bathed in a surreal moment of compassion.

“Don’t look so glum,” Axel chuckled. “You still have one more guess.”

* * *

The sleek F1 drifted into an easy cruise, settling into a parking space in front of the Shoukichi Botanical Gardens. Situated on a series of plateaus on the north end of Starfall Drive, the gardens were a dreamy vantage point from which you could see the glimmering urban sprawl of the city. The downtown skyline sparkled where it beat back against the unyielding sapphire tides. Roxas could remember visiting here a few times with his mom and brother before he moved to Twilight Town. The memories of cloudy wisterias and fragrant white roses drifted like a hazy reflection on the surface of his thoughts.

He hopped out of the car and followed Axel to where he was heading around the garden walls, venturing into a secret path leading into the wild foliage of pines that hugged the property line.

“Not that I don’t have absolute faith in your tour guiding skills,” Roxas mumbled as they found their footing in the darkness, “but I think the entrance is the other way.”

“Sweetheart, we’re not going into the gardens. I don’t really feel like sneaking around the tea houses and getting kicked out by security. I’m taking you somewhere better.”

Roxas followed along behind Axel, keeping his eyes out for stray roots and shrubs underfoot, watching as the moonlight darted in and out of view from behind the canopy of trees.

“For somebody who doesn’t live here, you seem to know a fair bit about what to do around town,” Roxas observed aloud as they continued on their way.

Axel threw a glance over his shoulder, his white teeth almost incandescent in the dark of night.

“I used to do a lot of gigs out here back when I was working,” he explained cheekily, knowing full well that this was a hint to help along with Roxas’s last guess, pro bono and with no strings attached. “I would have stayed here a bit longer each time but I can’t stand the heat.”

“So where did you end up spending most of your time?”

“Radiant Garden. I like the bustle and the rain.”

“East coast boy, huh?”

“Certainly was that way for a while. It’s a miracle I don't completely hate the sunshine. And driving.”

Roxas wondered idly about the leviathan city of the east coast. Radiant Garden only existed in his mind through the brickwork of its haunting reputation, movie scenes, and a vague knowledge of how the world’s wealth funneled in and out of the steel towers dominating its landscape. It was a place that Sora’s father ruled with an iron fist and it was that cold unfeeling nature that Roxas had always associated with the name. He tried to picture Axel there, copying and pasting his vivid irreverence into the patchwork of somber grey film reel that made up Roxas’s ambiguous impression of that vast metropolis.

Axel broke their amicable silence with a pointed question of his own.

“Do your parents know you’re out here gallivanting underneath the moonlight with some random stranger?”

“ _Right_ , lemme just ring up my mom—who’s probably sound asleep a thousand kilometers away from here—and fill her in real quick.” Roxas seemed to think about it for a second. “Actually … if I did end up calling her, I dunno if she’d be all that upset. Especially if I tell her I’m doing fine.”

“Really?” Axel looked back, his eyebrows raised. “She’s a ‘cool mom,’ trademark-copyright?”

“Well, she’s not _lame_. I wouldn’t use a gross oversimplification and call her ‘cool’ either. She’s just …” Roxas mulled over it for a moment. “She’s free-spirited. And I think she sees the same thing in me, too.”

“That’s good. As long as I’m not getting you into trouble, that’s all I care about.”

“Appreciate the concern. No trouble here. Unless you’re leading me into the woods for some good old fashioned murder. In which case, I’ve got bad news for you, pal. I played street hockey all my life and I’m not going down without a fight.”

“Yeah, because I’m totally hiding an axe somewhere in these skin-tight leather pants. You can chill out. I kinda like you alive. Alright, watch your step. We’re getting close.”

They approached the end of the path where the foliage tunneled out into a small fairy-like grove. The ocean breeze swept Roxas’s hair over his eyes. For a moment his vision swam. When he brushed the gold locks out of his face, the world was filled, from heaven to earth, with impossible and endless beauty.

Stepping forward from the path, he wandered underneath the shade of a willow tree, glimpsing the full expanse of the narrow cliffside. The small space couldn’t have stretched out further than a standard dining room before the ledge dropped off a hundred metres into the waters. But in that cozy intimacy, the trees and flowering shrubs formed an ornamental embrace, framing the infinite horizon where the ocean met the sky. The stars twinkled impossibly bright, the moonlight glimmering on the waves like thousands of diamonds cast adrift. All the colours of the night came to dance here on the cliff’s edge in a whirlwind of delightful secrecy. 

Roxas felt an overwhelming swell of emotion in his breast.

Axel smiled as he watched those midnight blue eyes, impossibly wide, taking in the vastness of the world with heartbreaking solemnity.

He sauntered over to a long boulder that served as a bench underneath the willow tree. Sitting down, he patted the space next to him in a silent and open invitation. Roxas followed and took a seat, feeling the warmth of Axel’s body next to his.

They listened to the waves crashing against the rocks below and the two of them watched the sky unfold above. The stars and silver glow of moonlight disclosed an indecipherable mystery in twinkling whispers. Sitting through that moment of companionable silence, they both wondered briefly how they’d found such sudden and easy comfort in the company of a total stranger.

* * *

“So the first time I came home wasted, I was fifteen, right? I hadn’t done anything that stupid—my best friend and I were just smoking and knocking back drinks after we tried crashing his older brother’s party. We ended up talking the whole night and it was one of those moments that … I didn’t want it to end, y’know? The hours ran away from me because we were so caught up in conversation. When I finally checked the time, my heart fucking dropped to my stomach. It was _four_ in the morning and I forgot to tell my mom where I was.

“You can imagine my anxiety when I got home more drunk than I’d ever been until that point. I’ve only ever seen my mom upset a few times in my life so I didn’t have a clue about how to handle the situation properly. I had to take a few minutes outside the door to psyche myself up, but eventually I decided I’d just tell her the truth—there wasn’t much else to it.

“I walked into our place and the first thing I noticed was the TV. My mom was watching reruns of Terrace House in the living room. She saw me come in and you would’ve thought I’d just come home from school.

“‘Hey, honey. How was your night?’ she asked me, totally pleasant and calm. And I was like, ‘It was fine. I was out with Hayner.’ And she just kind of nodded and I could tell she was sleepy. Fuck, did I feel bad. I wanted to apologize right away but I was so drunk that I also didn’t wanna end up saying something stupid and make things worse.

“But then she just started talking about whatever was happening in the show. I knew that she’d been waiting up for me … but she also just seemed excited to tell me about her night. So … I sat down beside her on the couch and started nodding along. It was just nice sitting there, hearing her talk. I kept waiting for her to ask me all sorts of questions about what I’d been up to. Instead, she went on to explain things about the show, like who’s interested in dating who, who said what about someone’s career—and I was trying my best to follow along but I was so drunk that the best I could do was hold my head upright.

“Of course she knew I was wasted and I think she probably found it kind of funny. Because she eventually stopped talking about Terrace House drama and she turned to me and asked, ‘Hey, Roxas. If I baked some bread, would you like to have some?’ The _idea_ of food was enough to make me cry just then because I realized how hungry I was. I told her that of course I’d love to have some.

“I must have dozed off for a little while. When I woke up, the sun was starting to come through the windows. I had a blanket wrapped around me and there on the table was a plate of freshly baked bread, water with ice, and a mug of black coffee. And I could hear my mom playing ‘The Beautiful Ones’ on the piano, very softly so that I wouldn’t wake up. It was the best meal I’ve ever had.

“I just knew it was the right moment. I laid there on the couch eating all that delicious bread, And then I finally said it: ‘Mom, there’s something I want to tell you.’

“She paused from playing piano and got up to sit next to me. And then I told her, still pretty fucking drunk by the way, ‘I like girls. But I like boys, too.’ After I said that, she just kinda … leaned into me and slipped a hand into the crook of my elbow. Then she laughed and said, ‘Thank you. For always being yourself around me.’

“I remember that time often and I wonder how my mom just knew what the right thing to do was. Because after that night, I made sure to always get home on time and if I was gonna be late, I never forgot to call and let her know. I guess … maybe because she always knew what to do, she trusted that I’d also be able to figure it out for myself. I think that’s one of the things I love about her most.”

Axel seemed to think about that for a while, letting the story settle comfortably between them during a lingering pause.

“Isn’t that a lot to ask of a kid?” he asked eventually, the brevity of his question underscoring a genuine curiosity as he turned to Roxas to hear his thoughts.

Roxas smiled.

“I think that’s sort of our job the moment we enter this world. We’re here to figure things out and if we’re lucky and we’ll have help along the way. I don’t think that just starts when you’re an adult.”

“Do you feel like you’re lucky?”

“Enough to have freshly baked bread and drive-in movies. I’d say I'm the luckiest guy in the world.”

* * *

“You said you spent most of your time in Radiant Garden back when you were working. What brings you to Destiny Islands now?”

“I was dropping off an old friend from Traverse Town.”

“I see. And what were you doing over there?”

“Honestly? I just checked out of rehab a few days ago.”

Roxas turned to face him. Axel kept his gaze firmly ahead on the horizon. The silence that settled between them lacked any sense of tension. But as Roxas weighed out his thoughts in private, the space they shared was filled with the warm realization that they were having a moment of genuine vulnerability.

Sensing that Axel had no desire to stretch the subject for longer than necessary, Roxas nodded in a brief gesture of acknowledgement.

“I’m glad your travels brought you here.”

“It’s been kind of a weird day but … I’m glad I’m here, too. I dunno how long I’ll stay though. I like being on the road too much.”

“Okay so … you travel around a lot, you’re sort of retired, and you seem to have the means to be able to go wherever you want. When did you get your first tattoo?”

“Three years ago.”

“And when was it that you started working?”

“Got my first gig when I was fifteen.”

“Okay. I think I have my last guess.”

“I got a good feeling about this one.” Axel grinned and turned to face Roxas. “Alright, final answer. Hit me.”

Roxas’s eyes ran the length of Axel’s body as if measuring his ridiculously long limbs in slow analytical inches. 

“You were a model.”

He was met with an impossibly bright smile.

“Bing- _o_.”

Roxas couldn’t keep the look of satisfaction from off his face.

“I dunno how it took me three guesses. It kinda seems obvious now.”

“Obvious how?”

“Well, you’re _beautiful_.”

Axel could feel his cheeks turning red and he hated himself for it. He’d been in front of cameras, photographers, and production teams in various states of dress (and undress) for years and years, with all sorts of comments being made about his body. Nothing should have phased him at this point. But such a blunt statement coming from Roxas held an element of staggering sincerity that Axel had no idea how to process.

He looked over at those dazzling midnight blue eyes, windswept golden hair, and the array of sun-kissed freckles on high cheekbones and wondered dimly how it was physically possible to be so striking and yet so maddeningly down to earth.

“I have no idea how you can just say that with a straight face,” he mumbled almost incoherently.

Roxas shrugged and turned his gaze out into the ocean, nonchalant and practical.

“I’m sure you hear stuff like that all the time,” he said in a way that was meant to reassure. “And besides, it’s a compliment. I can tell you that much at the very least.”

“Sure. Whatever you say.”

Sensing the impending difficulty concerning the topic at hand, Roxas steered the conversation in a different direction.

“So the clothes and the jewelry. Is that all from work?”

“Yeah, you end up with a lot of free shit along the years. I’ve kept all the jewelry and the most practical stuff. I’ll be damned if I ever go shopping again in this life.” 

Roxas peered closely at his face and shuffled through murky memories of glossy magazine covers. Axel caught his quizzical stare and responded with a lopsided grin.

“You’re probably wondering why I don’t look familiar. Believe me, my face used to be everywhere. But the powers that be have ways of making sure that you’re scrubbed clean from the record once they’re done with you. If you looked up my name, you probably only find a handful of pictures and barely any information. Which is for the best, if you ask me.”

Axel pulled out a box of cigarettes from the front pocket of his shirt. He stuck one of the slim rolls between his lips before turning to offer the box to Roxas.

“You smoke?”

“Sometimes. I think I’ll pass for tonight though.”

“Fair enough.”

Axel pulled out a silver lighter, its heavy ornamental steel decorated with prints of black rabbits in bowties. He held the piece up to the tip of his cigarette, striking the spark wheel deftly until a resilient flame blossomed. With a deep inhale, the night air was saturated with the heady smell of tobacco.

He pocketed his cigarettes and lighter. Keeping his eyes firmly on the horizon, he felt a hundred words falling from his mouth as if drawn out by their own keen desire to be heard.

“One of my first gigs outside of Midgar was here, at the gardens. I was fifteen. They flew me out and I didn’t know anybody in the city. The shooting schedule always started at five in the morning so I had to be in hair and makeup by three-thirty. Back then I was still a nobody, so all the prep was shit I had to learn on my own. You better believe I can do sharp liquid liner with my eyes closed. 

“I don’t think I slept at all for those three days. I had to stand in one of the ponds for hours at dawn in nothing but pricey silk shirts that they kept hosing down so that they’d stay wet. I pretty much had pneumonia by the end of it. But I was young and loaded with cash for the first time in my life and it was completely legit. There was a lot of shit I was willing to put up with as a dumb fifteen-year-old as long as the cheques kept on coming. 

“But whenever I had a break during that shoot—and there wasn’t much of that lemme tell you—I’d take a giant mug of coffee and sit out here by myself and stare out at the ocean. And I really had hope for once that things were starting to turn around for me.”

“You were fifteen at the time? I don’t … I’m not sure how you found the strength to do all that.”

“Money can make you do crazy things, especially when you’ve lived your whole life having very little. And I didn’t even have the worst of it. You don’t wanna hear what they put the girls through. But hey what the hell … I … I’m not sure why I’m telling you all this. All the memories rushing back I suppose.”

“It makes me understand things a lot better. Not just about you … but about life in general. So thank you.” 

“Nothing to thank me for. I’m just … rambling in the wind.”

* * *

  
In all his time spent across the world, Axel had never met anyone quite like Roxas. In the long years during the rise and fall of his past life, he’d moved in a sphere of society that swallowed people whole. There had been no room for tenderness or candor, in that world where everything was scrutinized for personal gain. Countless moments in his life that should have sustained his growth were rendered meaningless, revolving around his utility in the eyes of privileged society.

In that realm driven by lust, greed, and power, surrounded by the murky ambitions of those that were thirsty for fame and wealth, he had struggled and failed to remind himself of who he was. It had broken his heart in the most cruel and unforgiving ways, in a time when he was still too young to understand what it meant to be whole.

That night, a thousand miles away from the sins that dogged him like a shadow, Axel felt as though he had finally surfaced from underneath the unforgiving heaviness of a cold unfeeling ocean, tasting air greedily and with wild abandon for what felt like the first time in his life. Sitting beside Roxas as they gazed out at the coastline, he was overwhelmed by the endless starlight in those eyes, his luminous laugh, the airy way he spoke, not ever once taking himself too seriously. It was painfully transparent, seeing the way Roxas cared, how easily he found his footing within any given moment, no matter how wildly Axel went to bat in haphazard directions. He was faced with the conclusion that Roxas was always listening with wholehearted and genuine intent. And Axel never felt a reason to doubt Roxas’s words when he spoke. He had a candidness about him, tempered by the attentive pauses in which he sat before he chose to speak.

But there was a jaded part of Axel that cautioned against the sway of a glimmering facade. Because it was undeniable: Roxas was enviably beautiful, in a way that brought vague metaphors into startling, sharp focus, ideas that up until then had seemed so nebulous and meaningless. Suddenly, it wasn’t hard to imagine the frightening perfection of Achilles or the humbling power of hyacinths to lure the sun god down from heaven. He just had to look at Roxas in order to understand that those things from myth were possible. And what pained him most was the fact that Roxas seemed to have no idea. It filled Axel with an ominous and heavy despair.

Roxas carried himself like the autumn wind across the sky, detached and carefree, as if there wasn’t anything in the world that could hold his spirit down. He stood as an observer and paid no mind to the thought that perhaps to some people he was an object to be perceived and not much more than that. He had the whole world to see and hear and it was that refusal to retreat within himself that made Roxas so easy to be around. And Axel wanted to believe in that resilience, even though he himself at one point in time might have possessed a similar faith in his own sense of self.

He wondered where Roxas wanted to go in the world, if he would walk the same path that Axel once had all those years ago. He was beautiful after all, and on the west coast a face like that could take you further than the most desperate combination of brains and money. 

Axel found himself dwelling on what Roxas wanted for himself. He longed to believe that for once in his life, he’d finally met someone who knew themselves well enough not to wind up lost and broken on the harrowing path to freedom.

* * *

A shooting star darted across the sky and Axel turned to see if Roxas saw it, too.

“Make a wish.”

“I dunno if I have one.”

“For real? You’re not gonna drop some real humble shit on me, are you?”

“Like, ‘I have everything I need in this world?’ Not a chance. If I ever say anything that dumb, you have license to push me off a cliff.”

“Would you look at that— _my_ wish came true.”

“What did you wish for?”

“A hall pass for murder.”

“Dude, you’re _sick_.”

“You’re laughing!”

“Because you’re _sick_.”

“Sick as in ‘rad’? Yeah, I know.”

* * *

“So what do you love about … this person that you’re hung up on.”

Roxas gave Axel a bewildered look.

“I—what?”

Axel didn’t budge.

“You were pretty straightforward about the reasons why you love your mom. What about this person?”

“Well, yeah, of course I can tell you what I love about my mom. She’s my _mom_.”

“Okay, let me back up here and explain my thought process a little bit. So you can talk pretty openly about why you love your family and your friends and that’s good. Why not apply the same openness about anything else that you love? And you don’t really have to answer that if you don’t want to. I think I’m just trying to posit an overarching question here, no specific feedback required.”

“I think I know what you mean. I might have to reflect on that one for a bit.”

“Take your time.”

“Do you have any answers?”

“Here’s my take: the less selfless love is, the harder it is to talk about. Of course you’d do anything for your mom or your kid, hell even your friends if the relationship is neutral enough. There’s no personal baggage to unload when you’re telling me how free-spirited your mom is. I can take that at face value. 

“But say that I’m head over heels for someone and I tell you that I love them because, oh I dunno, they’re smart, funny, and good-looking. I feel like that says everything about me and very little about the person in question. What it _really_ means is that I feel like _I’m_ smart, funny, and good-looking when I’m around this other person. It’s too revealing.”

“So the difference comes down to neutrality?”

“Sometimes, yeah. But that might just be my own cynical take.”

Roxas laughed easily.

“Yeah, I was just about to say.”

Axel smiled indulgently.

“I accept that criticism. But I wanna hear what you think.”

“I think … I think that love—loving anybody, not just someone you’re interested in—is an acknowledgement of the fact that there’s actually very little that separates people from each other. I don’t think that seeing yourself in another person is a selfish thing. That’s just empathy, knowing that even if you live separate and different lives, you still have the capacity to meet in the middle and understand each other. Separation is an illusion—and maybe that’s just my acid brain talking—”

“What you’re saying is valid. You shouldn’t kneecap your thoughts and feelings based on whether or not you’re sober.”

“Thanks. I … yeah, I’m definitely serious. I guess when I say things like ‘maybe this is just my acid brain talking,’ I think what I mean is, ‘I’m more comfortable being sentimental and spiritual right now and I dunno if I’d say these things so readily on any other occasion, even though this is how I really feel.’ Y’know?”

“Totally.”

“But back to my original point … love is seeing pieces of your own heart in another person and knowing that if you care enough to take the time, you can see pieces of them in yourself, too. But that illusion of separation doesn’t just break down instantly. It’s why we get nervous and awkward around people we don’t know or why we get annoyed with one another over the most trivial shit. Because it takes time to understand that the wall isn’t there, not really, unless we put it up ourselves. So when you’re around someone who you share a genuine love with, your experience becomes less about saying the right thing or performing in a specific way just for the sake of keeping things comfortable. You both just get to _be_. It’s less like you’re facing each other and more like you’re looking out at life in the same direction, beside each other.”

“I really like how you put that. And if I’m being honest, I’ll definitely think about that a lot in the future.”

“Can you take that at face value?”

“No. Something even better: I can unpack a whole lot of truth in there.”

“Okay. I think I have an answer to your initial question, about why it’s harder to talk openly about why I love someone.”

“Lay it on me.”

“There’s a paralyzing fear that comes with realizing there’s someone out there in the world who holds so much of your heart in their hands. It’s probably still terrifying even if that person feels the same way about you, but when they don’t … you just have to trust that you’ll be okay no matter which way the wind blows. All you can really say in your own private feelings to this other person is: ‘Godspeed. I have no claim on you. But you’ll always have this place to call your home.’”

“You’re right. That’s terrifying. Listen … all that shit I said about … this kind of love being less selfless, I didn’t mean—”

“Hey, don’t get the impression that I took that the wrong way. I understood exactly what you meant when you said that.”

“Yeah?”

“Of course. I know what that’s like, when you appreciate someone but it’s actually more about you than it is about them. I’ve been there. I’m also just saying that when it comes to love, there’s a different way to see it.”

“Well, as long as we’re more comfortable being sentimental right now, can I tell you something?”

“Of course.”

“Whoever this person is … whoever else you end up loving in this crazy journey of life … they’re beyond lucky to have you in their corner. And I hope they realize that.”

“I feel like I’m the lucky one. Don’t get me wrong. This shit fucking hurts, I dunno if you can tell. And maybe it’ll hurt a little less one day. But I’d rather feel all of it than be above it.”

“You’re a braver person than me.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Roxas laughed. “I’d like to think that life doesn’t end at twenty-four. You’ve got time. We both do.”

Axel smiled back.

“True enough. You know, you’ve got a good head on your shoulders, kid.”

“Man. You keep calling me ‘kid.’” 

Roxas frowned, not exactly bothered but nonetheless the decision to put his foot down was clear. 

“Like, hey, I get it. You’ve got some years on me. But it’s not like you’re my fucking _uncle_ who plays water polo at the country club. You’re only twenty-four. So I dunno if you realize how condescending that actually comes off. You talk to me perfectly fine when you’re not dishing that out, so I dunno why you gotta say it at all. I feel like there’s a way to acknowledge our differences without being condescending. Y’know?”

When Axel’s face began to morph into some unbecoming chimera of the deer-in-headlights expression, Roxas took a step back and tempered his words. It occurred to him that maybe it wasn’t often that people tried to level with Axel in the name of honest dignity.

“I’m not upset or anything. I’m also not saying … I’m not saying that you should treat me as if that difference between us doesn’t exist, or whatever the fuck, because that would be equally absurd.” Roxas shrugged. “Just … talk to me like you would a friend. Also, I feel like I’ve been super chill tonight, all things considered. I think that warrants some kind of respect.”

“Alright, I hear ya. How about … ‘old sport’? Or what about ‘Jimbo’? Hmm, _actually_ , you kinda strike me as an ‘ol’ buddy, ol’ pal’ kinda fella.”

“I don’t think you heard a single word I said.”

“No nicknames, got it,” Axel chortled, pleased with himself. He put another cigarette in his mouth, the lighter flame illuminating his whole face with a cherry red spark. After a deep inhale, he gave Roxas a smile brimming with some vague emotion that fluttered away before he could put his finger on it. He pulled the cigarette out of his mouth and blew smoke into the cool night air, flicking his wrist to let ash fall like snow onto the pliant soil beneath their feet.

“Okay. I won’t call you kid anymore. But are you gonna give me a pass to say it one last time?”

Roxas gave him a beleaguered sigh.

“Knock yourself out.”

Axel’s teeth were pearly and dazzling in the moonlight as he grinned wide and made a motion with his hand as if to give a toast.

“‘Here’s looking at you, kid.’”

* * *

“So you’re studying music, huh? Where do you wanna go with that?”

Roxas wondered briefly how much he really wanted to tell Axel about the lifelong dreams that he held so close to his chest. He considered shrugging it off, saying something totally flippant about having studied music all his life, so it made sense to keep on going. But that wouldn’t have been the whole truth.

“I’m majoring in musical composition,” he ventured hesitantly. “I want to write albums. And … honestly, I want to spend the rest of my life writing music.”

There it was, the truth lingering in the air, as real as the intangible fragments of starlight between them. It ended up being easier to say than he thought.

“Oh, yeah?” Axel put out his cigarette against the sole of his glossy leather boots and swivelled to turn and face Roxas, interest fully piqued. After tossing the end of his cigarette back into his box of Sweet Aftons, he gave Roxas a wolfish grin. “Let’s hear it then. Sing me one of your tunes.”

Roxas looked at him like you would a car on fire in the grocery store parking lot.

“What? No way. It’s not a party trick.”

Axel threw him a look brimming with the desire for a cliffside scandal.

“Okay, I _see_. Just because I’m not some hot chick in a mini skirt, song requests are off the table, huh piano boy?”

In the oblivious beauty of moonlight, Roxas’s entire face glowed a reprehensible shade of cherry red.

“Do you wanna get off my dick for, like, one second?” he snorted, willing his composure to remain with him in this backwards situation until the bitter end. “As if you wouldn’t also cave to the pressure of trying to impress a pretty girl at a party.”

“How do you know I’m not gay?”

Roxas raised an eyebrow.

“Are you?”

“For the right price, I might be.”

Roxas felt a keen desire to die on the spot.

“If I sing you something, are you gonna promise me that this conversation is gonna get back on track right quick?”

Axel leaned back, sporting an impossibly wide grin.

“I’d call that a pretty fair trade.”

Roxas stifled a sigh. He looked out into the ocean, refusing to meet Axel’s piercing gaze as he took a deep breath in. On the exhale, his diaphragm contracted, a controlled push and pull as verses fluttered from his lips. His voice was soft, like the tender embrace of a childhood full of love and warm summers.

* * *

_You had the whole world sitting there, midnight underneath the oak tree. In that familiar place, between you and me, I found myself again. In your heart, yeah? Everything seemed new. Kind eyes got me thinking: this is the whole world, right here, between you and me._

_Shit don’t last forever, yeah I know. But this moment will last as long as I do. There’s room for you here, underneath the oak tree, a place that exists only in my heart. I’ve loved the good times here. The world won’t last forever. But these feelings last as long as I do._

* * *

“There’s a light touch electric guitar piece that goes with it. Soft drums. And the vocals are filtered with a glossy synth. Nothing too distorted … just something that makes the notes linger gently.”

Roxas still had yet to meet Axel’s gaze. He was fully aware of the fact that only his mom and Pence had ever heard the song (and he had shown it to Pence just because he needed help with the mastering) and that awareness nearly sent his composure flying off the cliff. Nonetheless, he soldiered on past his own embarrassment, tamping down on the temptation to splutter some half-assed self-effacing commentary. Because the truth was that even though he harboured no illusions about the song being a masterpiece, it was still achingly personal. It revealed far too much about the feelings that he’d kept private for so long. And he began to wonder why tonight of all nights he had chosen to start wearing his heart on his sleeve.

Before Roxas could spiral further down the rabbit hole of regret, he felt a light touch against his shoulder. He looked over to find silver moonlight in those green eyes.

“Not to pump my own tires too much,” Axel began solemnly, “but in my time as a model, I ran in some pretty high profile circles. I’m not gonna start dropping names of people I hung out with, because that’s neither here nor there, but the point I’m trying to get at is that I’ve been around some experienced musicians. You know the Restoration Site in Radiant Garden?”

Roxas eyes grew wide, the name sending a shiver of reverence down his spine.

“Tidus and Demyx McKenna recorded their albums there.”

“And I had a grand old time smoking and drinking on the studio couch while some of their songs were still getting workshopped in the recording booth. The only reason I’m telling you any of this is because I want you to believe me when I say I’m not just trying to be nice.”

Roxas’s mouth went dry, breath catching in his throat.

“You’ve got something special,” Axel continued, his voice neutral and clinical. There was a light tread in there as well, almost as if one word out of place might have thrown Roxas off his ambitions for good. “Going to school here on the west coast is the smartest move you can make. You’re going to meet lots of people who are gonna want to work with you.”

Feeling lightheaded (did Axel just imply that he knew Demyx _and_ Tidus?), Roxas had no idea if he played it cool enough when he asked, “You think so?”

Axel shrugged and went into his box of Sweet Aftons for cigarette #3.

“Didn’t I tell you I’m not just being nice?”

His head was reeling and everything that Axel was saying with flippant candidness had his entire body pulsing like a live wire. Oddly enough, the familiar smell of nicotine smoke did a lot to calm his nerves.

“I change my mind,” Roxas mumbled, running a hand through his hair. “I think I’ll have one of those. If the offer still stands.”

Axel extended the box to him. After Roxas tucked one of the rolls between his lips, Axel raised the heavy silver lighter to ignite the tip. The black rabbits on the surface filled the edges of his vision with velvet dusk.

Roxas inhaled deeply. The rush was immediate, beautifully exhilarating. It took his mind off the racing thoughts for a moment as raw physical pleasure flooded his veins.

Seeing the look of instant relief on his face, Axel stifled the urge to laugh. The air was saturated with the smell of salt and smoke as they settled once again into companionable silence. They watched as the sky began to grow lighter, heralding the dawn with tranquil solemnity.

“‘The world won’t last forever … but these feelings last as long as I do.’”

Axel felt the verse on his lips, tasting the bittersweet sensation with a fond smile.

“Damn … if only someone loved me enough to write something that beautiful.”

* * *

The world had begun to fill with the first shades of cool grey morning light by the time they made it back to the car. Roxas still felt wide awake, the last traces of LSD humming vividly underneath his skin. He could have stayed up to talk for another five hours. But after seeing Axel yawning up a storm, he figured it was time to call it and head back to Kairi’s house.

“My friends are probably looking for me,” Roxas grimaced as he buckled in his seatbelt.

“Did you tell them where you went?”

“Umm … not in so many words.”

Axel frowned at him.

“Let’s get you back in one piece then. I don’t want your people thinking that I’ve gone and kidnapped you.”

“I would have texted my brother but I gave my phone to my friend before the night got too crazy.”

“Are you a horrible drunk texter?” Axel chuckled. At the mention of phones, he pulled out his own to check and see if Riku had tried to reach him. There was one unread message in his inbox:

_Thanks for being there for me last night. I really owe you one. I think I’ll be staying at Kairi’s for a bit. I’ll link up with you if you’re still in town with Demyx this week._

There was also one missed call from an unknown number and a voicemail. He pocketed his phone, thinking to himself that he would take care of that later.

“I dunno if I’m a horrible drunk texter,” Roxas murmured sheepishly. “But I really didn’t wanna find out for sure, y’know?”

“You grow more and more intriguing every moment.”

Axel fired up the ignition and rolled out of the parking lot. Flying south on Starfall Drive, they both felt content to let the stereo fill in the gaps of silence. Roxas gazed out at the ocean, watching stars fade away as sunrise slowly swept in from the east. He felt like he had a hundred things he wanted to say but the words fell apart before they could reach his lips. Before he could stop himself, his eyes gravitated to the rearview mirror. He took a long, sweeping glance at the high planes of Axel’s cheekbones and felt his breath catching in his throat.

The stereo hummed a sensual drumbeat, thrilling snares over a velvet melody.

 _Would that diamond shine for real? Feelings come. Feelings go. Commes des_ _garçons._

“I gotta ask …” he began slowly, wondering briefly if he was about to say something that would make him sound too vulnerable. As the tumultuous high of the night faded into a steady calm, there was a quiet insistence in his mind to prove that it had all been as real as he had felt in each moment. 

“Why suggest the drive-in movie? Not that I didn’t have a good time. I just mean … you don’t really know me,” Roxas laughed. “Watching a movie with some random stranger is a pretty big gamble to take with your evening.”

“Hey, I pretty much asked you the same question,” Axel grinned. “And all you told me was that my choice to listen to _Floral Shoppe_ was enough to deem me cool.”

“I was right, wasn’t I? And you don’t _really_ have a habit of picking up hitchhikers.”

“Actually, now that you mention it, back when I spent some time driving across Alsace, I did end up picking up some strangers here and there,” Axel shrugged. “Met some pretty interesting people that way. Some were cool. Some were not. But all of them had a story to tell. I figured you would, too.” At that, green eyes glimmered sharply in the rearview mirror. “And after you told me you’d dropped acid, I just thought of what I would have needed all those times I used to do it. Drive-in movies and stargazing were at the top of the list.”

“You nailed it,” Roxas laughed. And then in a quieter voice, he murmured, “Listen, this was … I had a really great time. So, I just wanna say thank you. I’m glad I had you looking out for me in the interest of a fun night.”

Axel couldn’t stop the smile that crept up on him. It was the kind of smile that lingered, leaving an impression against the corners vof his eyes that he knew he’d think of later. He thought back on the moment he’d seen Roxas on the sidewalk, all alone underneath the glow of the street lamps. To think he’d come so close to driving away and never meeting him.

“The pleasure’s all mine. That was a night for the books.”

“Really? All we did was talk,” Roxas chuckled, wondering how in the world his simple conversation could have stacked up within the glamorous blur of Axel’s life.

“Remember when you told me that story about coming home drunk for the first time? When you were up all night talking to your friend, you said that you never wanted the moment to end. For a guy like me who loves nothing more than meeting interesting people, this was my definition of a good time.”

Roxas was grateful for the last traces of night that hopefully managed to obscure the pink rising in his cheeks.

“I’m glad.”

They arrived back at Kairi’s house a lot sooner than Roxas would have liked to admit. As Axel pulled up to the front steps and parked the car, the space between them was filled with an expectant pause.

“Thanks for dropping me off,” Roxas murmured, eyes locked closely on brilliant green. 

“Don’t mention it,” Axel smiled. “Hey … good luck with everything. With school and your music.”

“Thanks. I feel like I’m gonna need it.”

“Sure, but not for the reasons you might think.”

“What do you mean?”

Axel seemed unnervingly close just then and Roxas was suddenly aware of how small the car interior was.

“You’re the real deal.”

Roxas stared at Axel, all the breath escaping his lungs.

“I don’t …” Axel seemed embarrassed for a moment, as he turned away, rubbing at the long expanse of his neck. “I don’t just say stuff like that lightly. The last guy I said that to ended up becoming a movie star, okay? So take it for what it’s worth.” He chuckled sheepishly. “I also like to think that when I hear your songs on the radio eventually, I get to tell whoever’s around ‘Hey, you’ll never believe me but I went to a drive-in movie with the guy who wrote this.’”

Roxas burst out laughing.

“I gotta I make it big just so you can have that moment.”

“Sounds like a promise,” Axel grinned impossibly wide.

“You know it.”

Before the moment could get disgustingly more sentimental, Roxas pushed the button to open the car door on his side. Stepping out, he threw Axel a wave. His cheeks hurt from smiling all night but the grin never left his face.

“I’ll catch you around?”

“Yeah. See ya, Roxas.”

Roxas turned on his heel and marched up the steps, butterflies fluttering wildly in his stomach. He pushed the front door open and wandered into the living room in a daze.

_You’re the real deal._

He wanted to bury his face into his hands, feeling the unmistakable warmth rising in his cheeks. Then his heart sank as a horrible realization dawned on him.

“ _Shit._ I didn’t get his number.”

In his haste to double back, he almost tripped over the carpet. Roxas yanked the front door open and dashed outside. But when he got to the front steps, the McLaren was long gone.

“Way to go, Roxas,” he sighed, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he made his way back inside. “It figures I meet someone cool and the last thing I tell him is ‘catch you around.’ How lame.”

He wandered the empty hallways of the vast house in search of Sora and Pence and tried not to think about how in the world he’d run into Axel again. After trying several bedroom doors (there was one room with a few people passed out around a ouija board and Roxas was just gonna go ahead and not think about that), he eventually found Pence sound asleep.

Tiptoeing gently, he peered down at his friend’s peaceful face and hoped that Pence hadn’t stayed up all night worrying over his whereabouts. The sound of the bedroom door opening behind him and Roxas spun to turn around.

“Rox!” Sora whisper yelled, his face the very picture of rare bliss reserved only for morning people. “ _You_ look like you had a good night.”

Roxas blushed.

“I do? I mean … yeah. Last night was pretty fun.”

“Listen, come downstairs. I made pancakes. You gotta tell me all about it.”

As Sora looped his arm around his brother to steer them in the direction of the kitchen, he kept throwing sly sideways glances at Roxas.

“Alright. You can’t hold out on me now. What was her name? Did you get her number? Did you use _protection_?”

“What the _fuck_ are you talking about.”

They entered the kitchen where there was a miraculous breakfast spread that was entirely Sora’s doing.

“Pence said you were with a girl last night,” Sora stated casually as he loaded up a plate with fresh berries, chokecherry syrup, and a stack of the fluffiest pancakes Roxas had ever laid eyes on.

“Oh, right,” he mumbled. “Yeah, that didn’t pan out. I ended up hanging out with this guy who used to be a model. I’d say I made a new friend but … I totally forgot to ask for his number before he left.”

“Aww, that’s a shame,” Sora handed the plate to Roxas, positively beaming as he saw his brother’s look of open hunger. “What did you guys end up doing?”

Roxas shrugged as he shovelled half a pancake into his mouth.

“Well, I got a little too drunk last night. So this chemical engineer gave me this acid gummy bear while the party was in full swing and things went pretty well from there. Met lots of cool people. Made out with that girl, Vanessa, but … I dunno if I was her type. It didn’t go past kissing. After that I got a little claustrophobic so I decided to take a walk. So I was wandering around the suburbs for some fresh air and that’s when Axel found me and offered me a ride. We ended up getting along really well so he took me to see _Casablanca_ at the drive-in movie. And then we drove around for a bit and wound up at the botanical gardens and just … talked until sunrise. It was good. That was my night. How was yours?”

Sora gawked at him.

“I mean. I may have been involved in some really sketchy rounds of ultimate Jenga but that’s as exciting as it got. But hold up one hot sec, you did _what_ now?”

Roxas had polished off his plate and was already dishing up another stack of pancakes.

“Which part do you want me to repeat?”

“I dunno, dude. How about the part where you _dropped acid_ and went to a drive-in movie with some model?”

“Former model. And yeah, that happened. Also, not to worry you or anything, but I’m still a little high.”

Sora peered at him curiously.

“You seem … remarkably with it.”

“It’s strangely manageable, especially now. But I only had a little bit. It’s not at all what I was expecting. And to be honest with you, I think I know myself a little bit better after that experience.” Roxas paused from wolfing down food to rub at his cheeks. “I was smiling _all_ night. I think I probably tried making friends with a hundred different people.”

“Yeah, I think you made quite the impression,” Sora nudged him with an elbow.

Roxas groaned.

“A good impression, I hope. I really don’t think I was acting like a fool but I was also pretty wasted.”

“No, dude. People are _in love_ with you. You have no idea how many of my friends came up to me at the end of the night asking where I’ve been hiding you this whole time.”

Roxas gave him an incredulous look. He sifted through his memories of the night, trying to put some names to faces.

“I’m glad your friends like me.”

Sora laughed and patted him on the back before turning to dish up a second plate.

“You shouldn’t worry too much about that. You’re great, Rox. You ended up spending the whole night hanging out with a model, for crying out loud. Here,” he handed a tray to Roxas and began to load it with a ridiculous amount of food. “We’re gonna go surprise Kairi with breakfast in bed. I barely saw her last night so she must have been running herself ragged getting everything together.” Sora grabbed a jug of orange juice and led the march up to Kairi’s room.

“So you haven’t slept at all?” 

“No, I’m still buzzing. I have no idea when I’ll be able to get to bed.”

“Well, lucky for us it’s the weekend and neither of us have jobs. We can nap _hard_. Man, Kairi’s gonna be so excited to hear about your night. I wonder if she knows this Axel guy?”

Roxas shrugged as they arrived at Kairi’s bedroom door.

“Maybe. She seems to know a lot of people. I never asked him how he wound up at the party.”

“Kairi will know for sure!”

Sora turned the knob on the door and pushed it open with his hip. 

The moment that followed was pure chaos. Because as they crossed the threshold, Roxas barely had enough time to make sense of what he was seeing before the entire world funneled down a pit of quicksand. Time slowed and he could hear the sharp hitch in Sora’s breath as their eyes met Riku and Kairi from where they were sitting on the bed.

Riku dropped the ice pack that he was holding against his temples, caught like a deer in headlights.

Roxas thought he’d gone deaf. He could barely hear himself whispering, “ _Fuck_ ,” underneath his breath.

Then the jug of orange juice hit the ground and he dimly remembered thinking that he’d probably need to get new Vans. There was a rush of air as Sora moved, quiet like the breeze. Kairi’s face crumpled into heartbroken pleas.

The morning light painted a painful tableau before him and Roxas felt like his feet had turned to lead, his stomach filled with mercurial dread. He watched as his older brother, one of the people he loved most in the world, fell to his knees in front of Riku and sobbed brokenly, clutching at pale, shaky hands.

The last time Roxas had seen Sora cry like this was six years ago, back when Riku had left everything he’d ever known to go to Radiant Garden. Roxas had held him through countless nights, in that summer full of heartache, and wished desperately to be able to bear the pain with him.

And now he felt like he was worlds away, watching from some cold and distant land as Sora’s heart bled on the altar of Riku’s shadow.

“You’ve come home,” Sora wept, the words drowning in joy and grief. “You’re _home_. You’re finally _home_.”

* * *

Axel was barely conscious by the time he pulled into Demyx’s underground parking lot. The townhouse situated in the heart of downtown was an absolute nightmare to get to. After a series of misguided GPS turns down the wrong one-ways, he’d finally found his destination and was decidedly _so over_ being awake by the time he had the car in park.

He exited the vehicle, barely glancing at the absurd array of sports cars lining the path to the elevator. Pushing the button that would take him to the main floor, Axel sighed as he slumped against the glass wall. The doors slid shut with a whisper as the compartment ascended.

Against his own will, his mind started racing. Thoughts of midnight blue, starlight, and breathtaking candidness swept him up in a daydream.

_The world won’t last forever. But these feelings last as long as I do._

He rubbed at his eyes but to no avail. Midnight blue was burned into his mind. He wondered if he’d ever see him again.

The elevator gave a cheery ring as the doors slid open. Axel stepped out into the familiar foyer, a world bathed in towering crystal sculptures, pampered orchids, tropical gold themes, and rich shades of purple. It was a startling reminder of how absurdly lavish Demyx liked to live.

“Axel, _bienvenue_. It’s wonderful to see you again.”

Demyx’s valet appeared from down the hallway and extended a cheerful hand towards him. Axel smiled and shook his hand.

“ _Merci_ , Lumiere. It’s been a while.”

“The house will be a much more interesting place now that you’re back,” Lumiere threw him a conspiratorial wink. “Breakfast is being served in the greenhouse this morning. I believe Demyx is already at the table.”

Axel tried not to groan. In his hopes of finally getting some sleep, he’d forgotten that Demyx always got up absurdly early. He was tempted to pass on breakfast but figured it might have been kind of rude to sleep the day away before showing his face.

“I think I can find my way there.”

“ _Très bien_. I will see to it that your things are taken care of. Would you like your usual room?”

Axel thought of the blissful king-sized mattress in the Seadrift Suite and tried not to moan.

“That would be absolutely perfect.”

“Wonderful. I will see to it that everything is prepared to your liking.”

Axel made his way through a series of hallways until he arrived at the towering glass doors of the greenhouse. Stepping inside, the contrast between the cool airconditioning and the flowery humidity was already starting to give him a headache. Beyond the fragrant deciduous trees and koi ponds, he spotted the ornamental dining area ensconced in the intimacy of radiant hibiscus and mandevilla blossoms. And seated at the head of the table in a cushy white armchair was Demyx, shirtless, sunkissed, and dressed in the most outrageously dyed harem pants Axel had ever laid eyes on.

“Morning, sunshine.”

The musical legend looked up from his plate of a classic galette with fresh greens and sliced tomatoes.

“Should I even ask where you were all night?”

Axel sat across from him, reveling in the softness of the armchair upholstery. Despite his question, Demyx barely seemed annoyed or surprised, which probably should have told Axel something of his punctuality.

“It’s kind of a long story,” he stole a tomato slice from Demyx’s plate, “but hey, I got your McLaren here in one piece.”

“You’re an absolute pal for doing that,” Demyx yawned, kicking his feet up over the side of his armrests. “I wasn’t sure what time you’d be here but I had my chef make you a vegan platter.” He pointed nonchalantly at the array of fresh vegetables and golden hash browns in the middle of the table.

As Axel gingerly picked at the tray (he resisted the urge to pour coffee down his throat) Demyx’s piercing cyan eyes surveyed him from across the table.

“You got face tattoos.”

Axel gave him a pointed look.

“Yep. It’s a thing that I did.”

“You’re really burning the bridge to modelling, huh.”

He snorted between bites of potatoes. 

“Hilarious. As if the agency would have me back after I went completely apeshit at my last campaign shoot. My face is now completely and utterly mine to stab with needles as I see fit.”

Demyx leaned closer and assessed the rest of the ink on his body.

“It’s kind of a _look_ though. Card Break would probably pay hand over fist to have you in their clothes—”

“I’d rather sit my bare ass down on a dumpster fire rather than do a campaign for Marluxia.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re still pissed at him for banging your girlfriend. He’s actually much less of a pretentious jackass now that Larxene’s mellowed him out a little, if you can even believe I’m saying that. Besides, you hooked up with so many people behind her ba—”

“Buddy, guilt is not the side I ordered with my breakfast,” Axel grunted, setting his fork down. “And speaking of Larxene … I actually ran into her at a Cove Point party last night.”

“Ah.” Demyx hid his expression behind his mug of coffee. “And how did that go?”

“Honestly, it went much better than you might think. I walked away in possession of all my limbs, so you could even say that she thinks of me fondly.”

“Did she tell you about her wedding?”

“Yep. Sounds like Marluxia’s actually done something right for once.” Axel could feel himself getting bored of the subject fast, but nonetheless he had to lay out the question that he already knew the answer to. “You’re going?”

“Yep. Formality and obligations and all that,” Demyx waved his hand around, as if being the face of a couture brand like Card Break was akin to being someone’s first cousin. “They’re holding it here in the city right before I play Aurora Valley in the fall, so that’s monumentally convenient.”

Axel yawned and finally caved to the temptation to have a sip of coffee. God, caffeine was pure bliss.

“So how did things go with Riku?”

“Status between him and me? Or status concerning the repulsive media circus that was waiting for him outside his house?”

“Yikes. He could have come to stay here. I don’t give a shit,” Demyx cast both hands up in the air. “A scandal by association might actually get me more song plays.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” Axel snorted, knowing full well that Demyx and the name McKenna were virtually untouchable on the west coast. 

“Things between the two of you are good though?”

“Better than I was expecting. But that might have something to do with me chauffeuring his ass all the way from Traverse Town.”

Demyx shook his head with a sigh.

“No, dude. He actually missed you and he’d probably kill my ass for saying this. But Riku’s just too proud to say that kind of stuff, y’know?”

Axel grimaced. But before he could mutter something embarrassing about it being nice to have his friend back, Lumiere entered the greenhouse. Following close behind him were two men who might have looked kind of like normal citizens had they been out on the streets. But in the Demyx's immaculate tropical paradise, they looked absurdly rough around the edges.

“ _Monsieur_ , your guests Braig and Zell have arrived for your morning meeting.”

“Thanks, Lumiere. Hey, fellas. Have a seat. Thanks for coming to meet me this early.” Demyx hardly left his reclining position as he motioned towards Axel. “This is Axel, a good friend of mine. Axel, Braig and Zell. They run the Balamb Garden art and music collective here in Destiny Islands. Also, they make the absolute _best_ craft dabs I have ever smoked.”

Axel extended a brief nod as the two men sat across the table. The older one, Braig, had inky black hair and a cunning look in the one amber eye that wasn’t obscured by an eyepatch. And the younger of the two, Zell, was built like a linebacker and had a tribal tattoo on the left side of his face that Axel was trying really hard not to judge.

“What do you have for me today?” Demyx cut straight to the point.

Braig set down a modest sized pelican case on the table. Popping the clasps open, he revealed dozens of small glass containers filled with amber-like wax.

“Zell and I have been working on our live resin process and we brought some small custom batches for you to try.”

Demyx’s cyan eyes glimmered as he reached in to pluck a container from the case. Popping the lid off, he took a deep, clinical inhale.

“ _Live_ is right, goddamn. That smells like fresh flower.” He pulled out more containers for a sniff test and cast a brief glance at Zell. “You also have glass for me, yeah?”

The tattooed blond nodded with a wolfish grin and set down more pelican cases on the table, all of them containing colourful blown glass dab rigs of insane alien geometry, galaxies and crop circles swirling in the shallow depths of the intricate winding surfaces. One glance was enough to tell Axel that there was more than twenty-thousand munny worth of product sitting on the table.

Having absolutely no interest in the intricacies of glass art and high end THC concentrates, Axel began to zone out. And that was about when he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket.

_Roxas?_

He kicked himself mentally when he realized that A) he never ended up exchanging digits with Roxas, and B) the call was coming from an unknown number.

“Excuse me, I have to take this,” he mumbled before stepping into a more secluded part of the greenhouse. But by the time he’d arrived a respectful distance away, the call had gone to voicemail.

Sighing, he went in to access his unplayed messages. Holding the phone up to his ear, Axel waited until a familiar voice filtered through the device. As soon as he heard it, his blood ran cold.

_Hey, Axel. It’s Reno. Listen, I know it’s been a while. I’ve been trying to reach you. We have to talk—_

He couldn’t remember deleting a message faster in his life.

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered under his breath.

_This isn’t actually happening right now._

“Hey, Axel! Wanna come over here for a sec?”

Attempting to curb the volatile rush in his pulse, Axel strode back over to the table, willing his life to reach some semblance of normal for one merciful second. Putting on what he hoped was a neutral expression, he took a seat again.

“What’s up?”

“Braig here was just telling me that Balamb Garden is looking for a party photographer and I happened to show him some of those pictures you took a while ago. Remember when you, me, Tidus and Yuna booked the 104 penthouse? Your photos of that weekend were insane. Braig, Axel might just be the talent you need. My boy here knows his way around a camera.”

Axel was too tired to argue when he saw the calculating glint in Demyx’s eyes. In the back of his mind, there was an intuitive voice that cautioned against the possible machinations at work here. But in the moment, the last thing he wanted was to get into some exhausting disagreement when he knew full well that Demyx would end up getting what he wanted one way or another.

“I could use a gig right now,” Axel leaned back in his chair, resisting the heaviness setting on his eyelids. “When do you need me to start?”

“Next Saturday if you can swing it,” Zell said. “We have a warehouse show with No.I coming up.”

“Schedule’s wide open. I’ll be there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I'm not saying that jumping into strangers' cars always leads to lifelong friendships. But I'm also not saying it's impossible. Conduct shenanigans at your discretion and always look out for one another out there. Stay safe and always make sure you're playing a good ass song.
> 
> The next update will be on September 17 💖


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